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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  873-4503 


<> 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


■'^mm. 


Tachnical  and  Bibliographic  Notas/Notas  tachniquas  at  bibliographsquas 


The  Instituta  has  attamptad  tG  obtain  tha  bast 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturas  of  this 
copy  which  may  ba  bibliographically  uniqua, 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagas  in  tha 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  chxnga 
tha  usual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chackad  baiow. 


□    Coloured  covers/ 
Couvar*ura  da  coutaur 

□    Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  andommagee 

□    Covi 
Cou 


D 
D 
D 
D 


D 


□ 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/' 
varturo  restaur^e  et/ou  pelticul^e 


I      I    Covi 
I I    Le  ti 


Cover  titio  missing/ 


tra  da  couverture  mznque 


r~~]    Coloured  maps/ 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 


Cartes  gAographiques  en  couleur 


Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  qua  bleua  ou  noiral 


Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  nn  coulai 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
ReliA  avac  d'autres  documants 


Tight  binding  may  causa  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

Lareliure  serree  peut  causer  de  I  ombre  ou  de  la 
distorsion  la  long  da  la  marge  interieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  tha  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajout^es 
loro  dune  restauration  apparaissent  dans  la  text*, 
mais.  lorsque  cela  <itait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  AtA  filmdas. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplementaires; 


L'Institut  a  microfilm*  la  meilteur  axemplaire 
qu'il  iui  a  *tA  possible  da  se  procurer.  Las  details 
de  cat  exemplaire  qui  sont  paut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique.  qui  pauvent  modifier 
una  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m^thoda  normale  de  filmaga 
sont  indiquAs  ci-dessous. 


r~1    Coloured  pages/ 


D 


Pages  de  couleur 


Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 


□    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages 


D 


Pages  restaur«^es  et/ou  pelliculAes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d^color^es,  tachat^ns  ou  piquees 

Pages  detarhed/ 
Pages  d^tachees 


EShowthrough/ 
Transparence 


□    Quality  of  pri 
Quality  iniga 


nt  varies/ 
Agale  de  I'impression 


|~~|    Includes  supplementary  material/ 


Comprend  du  material  supplamentaire 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  fejillet  d'errata,  une  pelure. 
etc..  cnt  *t*  filmAes  *  nouveau  de  facon  d 
obtanir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  fst  film*  au  taux  de  rMuction  indiquA  ci-dessous. 

10X  UX  18X  22X 


/ 


MX 


30X 


\iX 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


Th«  copy  filmed  h«r«  has  b««n  r«produe»d  ttianks 
to  th«  ganarosity  of: 

Memorial  University  of  St.  John's 


L'axamplaira  fiimA  fut  raprcduit  grica  k  la 
gAnirositA  da: 

Memorial  University  of  St.  John's 


Tha  imagas  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
possibia  considaring  tha  copdition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  spacificationa. 


Laa  imagaa  suivantas  ont  AtA  raproduitaa  avac  la 
piua  grand  soin.  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nanat*  da  l'axamplaira  film4,  at  an 
conformity  avac  laa  conditions  du  contrat  da 
fiimaga. 


Original  copiaa  In  printad  papar  covars  ara  filmad 
beginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustTatad  impraa- 
sion.  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  filmad  beginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impraa- 
sion.  and  ending  on  tha  last  paga  with  a  primad 
or  illustratad  Imprussion. 


Laa  axamplairaa  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  an 
papiar  aat  imprim^a  sont  fiimte  an  commanc«nt 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
darniAra  paia  qui  comporta  una  smprainta 
d'Impraasion  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  salon  Ic  caa.  Tous  las  autraa  axsmplairas 
originaux  sent  filmta  an  commandant  par  la 
prami^ra  paga  qui  comporta  una  smprainta 
dlmprasaion  ou  d'illustration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  damiira  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
ampratnta. 


Tha  laat  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  coritain  the  symbol  — ^(meening  "CON- 
TINUED "1.  or  the  symbol  ▼  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  appliaa. 


Un  dae  symbolaa  auivanta  apparaitra  sur  la 
damiAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  seion  le 
caa:  te  symbote  •-»  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Mapa.  plataa,  charts,  ate,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratioa.  Thoae  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  ara  filmed 
beginning  In  the  upper  left  hand  comer,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  framea  aa 
require!'.  The  following  diagrama  illustrate  the 
method: 


Las  cartea.  pianchea,  tableaux,  ate. ,  pauvent  Atre 
ftlm4e  i  dee  taux  de  reduction  diff*rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  set  trop  grand  pour  itre 
reproduit  nn  un  seui  clichA.  II  «st  filmA  i  partir 
de  I'angie  4up4rieui  gauche,  de  gauche  ^  droite, 
at  de  haut  wt  baa.  an  pranant  la  nombre 
d'Imegea  n^ceasaira.  Laa  diagrammes  suivants 
illuatrent  la  m4thode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

T3 


-4 


^ 


•        •  . 


I-    _    ■  r  '- 1 


i\. 


.#**  *  ^^**«.«, 


^ 


p 


^j^^imm   ifA^]U(B\ 


'i^ifc    Mammcth  Cave.Ky 


r^K:w  TDHK.    c;.   b    fi-tivam. 


iCNDCH 


1.^'vv    3;::;  % 


I 


IM 


'<!•-« 


AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD: 


A  SKETCH-BOOK 


ow 


i^lFE,  SCENERY   AND  MEN. 


BT 


BAYARD    TAYLOR 


NEW   YORK- 


G.P.PUTNAM:    SHELDON  &  CO 

^  116   NASSAU-8TUEKT.  ' 


I860. 


Entered  according  to  Aci  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S59,  by 
G.   P.   PUTNAM, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  DLstrict  Court  of   t.,e  TTnltod  States  for  the  Southern 

District  of  New  York, 


E.    CBAIOIIBAD, 

Primer,  Sierroiypor,  and  Eleciroiyper, 
JTaiton   BuiUjine, 

81.  Sa,  mil  US  Ctnirt  StruL 


PREFACE. 


I»  th.  volume  I  have  collect  eogether  the  various 

t  ;„  "'""r"  "''^'^  °^'--'.  '•o-iieh  the™ 
w^  no  appropnate  place  in  the  narratives  already 
published.     Mo«f  r,f  tk,       i  I'reaay 

t'  Most  of  them  have  appeared,  at  intervals 

':"""  '':  P^^'  ^'«'"  ^-^We,  perhaps,  been  lot 

iTt':  t  '°'^"""  '^  ■""-^  or.;r:.,e./;e: 

rt™stthatthe.a.fe.,the,ubJee.sofwhieha:;„^ 

themselves  of  suffleient  interest  to  justify  me  in  thu 
-Producng  then,.    At  leaat  the,  have  the  a'lvant  J  oT 
vanet,,  and  the  volume,  like  the  steteh-hooTo In 
artist,  has  figures  for  those  who  do  not  ,  ■ 

-Pe.nia.ter.f.faetforthosrllr::':-'""'' 
»d  a  elose  adherence  to  Nature!  "'' 

-.7  lack  of  grace  in  the      "'"'^  "^ '"^^^'ensation  for 

ictual  cv      •  '''"""°"-    ^'  ^  »  «'=°^J  of 

rosti^ir""^"^^'"-'^^-"—- 


Nkw  TonK,  ^„eia«^4  ,ggjj_ 


BATARD  TAYLOR. 


CONTENTS. 


Tho  first  Journey  I  ever  made^ 
A  Night  Walk,       .... 
First  Difficulties  with  Foreign  Tongues, 
A  Young  Author's  Life  in  London, . 

The  Atlantic,  . 

^  •        •        •        • 

Rambles  in  Warwickshire, 
A  Walk  from  Heidelberg  to  Nuremberg— 
A  Walk  from  Heidelberg  to  Nuremberg- 
Panorama  of  the  Upper  Danube, 
The  Road  from  Vienna  to  Trieste, 
Smyrna,  and  the  Grecian  Archipelago, 

A  Walk  through  the  Thiiringian  Forest, 

My  Supemat'Tial  Experiences, 

More  of  the  Supernatural, 

A  November  Trip  Northwards, 

The  Mammoth  Cave— Part  L 

The  Mammoth  Cave— Part  H. 

The  Mammoth  Cave— Part  IIL 

Mackinaw,  and  the  Lakes, 

A  Telegraphic  Trip  to  Newfoundland-Part 
A  Telegraphic  Trip  to  Newfoundland-Part 
A  Telegraphic  Trip  to  Newfoundland-Part 


PartL, 
Part  IL 


I, 

irr., 


PAOB 
1 

.      14 

.      24 
.      35 

4G 
.       61 
.       66 
.      7G 
.      88 
.     102 
.     113 
.     128 
.     140 
.     163 
.     165 
.     180 
.     190 
.     20i 
.     226 
.     238 
.     253 
.     264 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


A  Telegrapliic  Trip  to  Newfoundland-Part  IV.,  '^^ 

A  Telegraphic  Trip  to  Newfoundland-Part  v., '     .'        *        '        '     ^^^ 
Holidays  in  Switzerland  and  Italy,  '       '        '        '        '     ^^^ 

A  German  Home,    .        .        .      "        " ^^ 

Life  in  the  Thuringian  Forest, .        .        .       ,        '               '        '  ^^^ 

Interviews  with  German  Authore,  ..'*'*        '  ^^^ 

Alexander  Von  Humboldt,                        ^^® 

Summer  Gossip  from  England,        .        .       '                         •        •  oi 

The  Castles  of  the  Gleichen,    ,        . ^^* 

"Weimar,  and  its  Dead,    ...  

A  German  Idjl,      .        .        , ^®'^ 

The  Three  Hundredth  A^nivc'^'^f  the  UnJvemly  of  Jena,'        '  2 

Some  English  Celebrities,        ....                    u-,        .  4io 

Scenes  at  a  Target-Shooting,   ,.,*****  *^^ 

Aspects  of  German  Society,    .        .        ,                •        •        .        .  7 

Aj.ueStorjr,         .                                *^ 

The  Landscapes  of  the  "World. 

*             *            •            •            •  ^Q1 

Preferences,  after  Seeing  the  "World, 


AT    HOME    llfl)    ABROAD. 


I. 


THE  FIRST  JOURNEY  I  EVEB  MADE 


Mr  friend,  Ida  Pfeiffer,  relates,  in  the  preface  ,o  one  of 
her  volumes,  that  the  desire  for  travel  wa.  with  her  an 
inborn  propensity.     When  a  little  girl,  she  was  accustomed 
to  watch  the  mail-coach  as  it  whirled  daily  through  her  na 
tive  valley;  and  when  it  had  crossed  the  verge  of  the  hill 
which  bounded  her  childish  world,  she  would  frequently 
weep,  because  she  could  not  follow  it  and  visit  the  unknown 
regions  beyond.    In  looking  back  to  my  childhood,  I  can 
recall  no  such  instinct  of  perambulation;  but  on  the  con- 
trary the  intensest  desire  to  climb  upward-so  that  ^vith- 
ou    sbftmg  the  circle  of  my  horizon,  I  could  yet  extend  it, 
and  take  m  a  far  wider  sweep  of  vision.    I  envied  everJ 
bird  that  sat  swinging  upon  the   topmost  bough  of  the 
great,  centnry-old  cherry  tree;   the  weather-cock  on  our 
barn  seemed  to  me  to  whirl  in  a  higher  region  of  the  air  • 


72*^ 


^  AT   HOME   AXD   ABROAD. 

and  to  rise  from  the  earth  in  a  balloon,  was  a  bliss  which  I 
would  almost  have  given  my  life  to  enjoy.    Perhaps  the 
root  of  the  instinct  was  the  same  in  both  cases ;  but  Ma- 
dame Pfeiffer's  desires  shot  off  in  a  horizontal  direction, 
while  mine  went  up  perpendicularly. 

I  remember,  as  distinctly  as  if  it  were  yesterday,  the  first 
time  this  passion  was  gratified.    Looking  out  of  the  gar- 
ret window,  on  a  bright  May  morning,  I  discovered  a  row 
of  slats  which  had  been  nailed  over  the  shingles  for  the 
convenience  of  the  carpenters,  in  roofing  the  house,  and 
had  not  been  rer    ved.    Here  was,  at  last,  a  chance  to 
reach  the  comb  ol       j  steep  roof,  and  take  my  first  look 
abroad  into  the  world!    Not  without  some  trepidation  I 
ventured  out,  and  was  soon  seated  astride  of  the  sharp  ridge. 
Unknown  forests,  new  fields  and  houses  appeared  to  my 
triumphant  view.    The  prospect,  though  it  did  not  extend 
more  than  four  miJes  in  any  direction,  was  boundless.    Away 
in  the  north Avest,  glimmering  through  the  trees,  was  a  white 
object— probably  the  front  of  a  distant  barn  ;  but  I  shouted 
to  the  astonished  servant-girl,  who  had  just  discovered  me 
from  the  garden  below :  « I  see  the  Falls  of  Niagara !" 

With  increase  of  knowledge,  this  instinct  took  the  definite 
form  of  a  longing  to  see  and  to  climb  a  mountain.  My 
nurse  was  an  old  Swiss  woman,  in  the  background  of  whoso 
stories  stood  the  eternal  Alps ;  some  few  of  the  neighbors 
had  seen  the  Blue  Ridge  (the  members  of  our  community, 
generally,  were  as  thoroughly  attached  to  the  soil  as  the 
Russian  serfs)  and  in  our  native  region  of  softly-rounded 
hills  and  small  intervening  valleys— a  loVely  reproduction 
of  English    Warwickshire— the  description  of  a  mountain, 


^H,-.  mST  JOUK^VBT  Z  ^KB  HABK. 


mantled  with  i»ine  fioPii  ,.,;♦  i,    i. 
a«c„d  mucl,  above  the  ton  „f  ,1  T  ''''"  "^'*''=""  «" 

«- j„„™e,  aaouM  .e  i^Thd  :„::;'  """'^"■"'  -^ 

«ltion.    A  farmer's  bov    ,  f^         '*'''"  """  e^"!- 

-H.„.e,.d:ea^cr„:err""^" 

'-.agerie,,  p„ro„„.„giea,  lecture,,  pea  nutl!  ^  """^^'• 
-can  .-arely  aave  e„„„gi,  ft„„  ,^    ^     »"'^.  a«d  .ce-cream 

-Inuts,  and  .„„,„«  leave.,,  „r  even  fT  1  5   "  ™"*"-^'""'' 
«-t!,e  -runt"  „f  n^  u.,«r  T  °™  *""'**'' 

undertaking.    My  private  „",  <^°"'™'""'e  any  ,eriou, 

o     ^»A^  private  means  were  rhJofl^r  ^    •     , 
these  sources,  and  everv  «„.      a-  ^  "^^"^^^  ^'•<^« 

■■"S  business    „„„  ^^^^  ^^'-^  «»  the  pri„.' 

"Pened  „„  nne^pecte/:™ yf/L  itT  "'  ""^""^ 
I  »l.o„,a  receive  forty  dolj,  a  yTar  ft  .he  'T''^  '""' 
clothing,  and  as  I  entered  on    "  "  °'  '"^ 

tolerable  supply,  I  a,  one.  ^  Wront.ceship  „iu,  , 
enough  out'of :;;:;;  ;;;'''^  Po-O-^ity  Of  saving 
reach  .he  nearest  LountX  '"  ™""'^  "">  'o 

The  plan  succeeded  well     At  tl,„  *       • 
y-,  I  found  myself  in  poss^ssi!    ,'';*^™^-^-  ^f  the 
fifteen  dollars     B»t  m    ^,       ''''"  ^^  *^^  enormous  sum  of 
"ais.    ifut  my  ideas  and  desires  hid  in  ♦!, 


AT    HOME   AND   ABROAP. 


the  Highlands,  the  Catskills,  Berkshire,  and  the  ConuectL 
cut  Valley!  Of  course,  the  tour  must  be  accomplished 
mostly  on  foot ;  and  I  confess  I  counted  a  little  upon  the 
hospitality  of  the  country-people  for  a  meal  or  a  bed,  if  my 
purse  should  get  very  low.  A  fellow-apprentice,  of  ample 
means  (I  believe  he  had  twenty-seven  dollars),  agreed  to 
bear  me  company;  and  p.'jout  the  middle  of  May,  1843, 
the  necessary  holiday  was  obtained  from  our  employer. 
My  scanty  baggage  was  contained  in  a  soldier's  knapsack, 
borrowed  from  a  private  of  the  "National  Grays" — the 
sole  militia  company  in  the  place — and  the  gilded  letters 
"N.  G."  upon  the  back  proved  afterwards  to  be  a  source 
of  curiosity  to  the  public — many  persons,  supposing  me  to 
be  an  itinerant  peddler,  taking  them  to  mean  "New 
Goods."  My  money  was  entirely  in  quarter-dollars,  as  the 
United  States  Bank  Avas  no  more ;  and  such  things  as 
drafts,  exchange  brokers,  etc.,  were  unknown  to  me. 

My  companion,  on  account  of  his  extensive  means,  deter- 
mined to  travel  by  railroad  to  New  York,  while  I,  who 
was  obliged  to  foot  it  across  the  sands  of  New  Jersey, 
started  a  day  in  advance,  the  rendezvous  being  a  small 
soda  water  shop  in  John  street,  kept  by  a  mutual  acquaint- 
ance. The  steamboat  from  Philadelphia  deposited  me  at 
Bordentown,  on  the  forenoon  of  a  warm,  clear  day.  I 
buckled  on  my  knapsack,  inqxiired  the  road  to  Amboy,  and 
struck  off,  resolutely,  with  the  feelings  of  an  explorer  on 
the  threshold  of  great  discoveries.  The  sun  shone  brightly, 
the  woods  were  green,  and  the  meadows  were  gay  with 
phlox  and  buttercups.  "W  alking  M-as  the  natural  impulse 
of  the  muscles;  and  the  glorious  visions  which  the  next 


few  days  would  unfold  to  mc,  drew  me  onward  wi,., 
powerful  fa.ina.ion.    Th„,  ,Ue  after  nUlo  wT    V  a„d 
eariy  .n  the  afternoon  I  reached  Hightstown,  very  hoi  and 
hung^,  and  a  .i..,e  footsore.    Twenty-five    ent/o   y  Zl 

<idlar?    The  thought  was  banished  as  rapidly  as  it  came 
and  s«  eales,  of  remarkable  toughness  and  heavinl  p"' 

tittr "" '"  ""^  ^""-  -""--  -  ^p'-"« 

The  miles  now  became  longer,  and  the  r„.,y  color  of  mv 
ant,e,pat.o„s  faded  a  httle.    The  sandy  ieve.  of  the  „„nt"y 
fafgued  my  eyes;  the  only  novel  objects  I  had  ye    d  f 
00  ered  were  the  swecp-poles  of  the  welb;  and  thoulh  I 
nodde    to  everybody  I  met,  my  greetings  ;ere  n     jl 
eordially  returned.     I  had  been  informed,  you  m„.,  1™ 
that  in  the  land  of  Jersey  the  inhabitant    w    eTn!L^d 7' 
be  o^ended  if  you  did  not  gi™  them  the  slZ,  "o^" 
whreb  .s  the  ordinary  form  of  country  salutati  „""' 

"b:we^^°'"T;cT :'"°'"" '-  "■""-»'  '•»-*'•- 

bowed.  )    The  hot  ..ternoon  was  drawing  to  a  close  and 
was  wearily  looking  out  for  Spotswood,  when  a  mt  'iT 

refreshmg  to  me  as  the  aet  in  itself  was  at  that  time 

stopped  to  get  a  drink  from  a  well  in  front  of  a  „e.at 
1  tt,e  arm.house.    While  I  was  awkwardly  prenariu.  ,1T, 
aown  the  bucket,  a  kind,  sweet  voice  sudde"    "t 
:;  ':  ■'  '-  ^»""    I  'ooked  up,  and  saw  before  me  a  Jl 

wh.ch  blushed  the  least  bit  in  the  world,  as  she  met  m; 


AT   UOME   AND   ABROAD. 


gaze.  Without  waiting  for  my  answer,  she  seized  the  pole, 
and  soon  drew  up  the  dripping  bucket,  which  she  placed 
upon  the  curb.  "I  will  get  you  a  glass,"  she  then  said, 
and  darted  into  the  house — reappearing  presently  with  a 
tumbler  in  one  hand  and  a  plate  of  crisp  tea-cakes  in  the 
other.  She  stood  beside  me  while  I  drank,  and  then  ex- 
tended the  plate  with  a  gesture  more  inviting  than  any 
words  would  have  been.  I  had  had  enough  of  cakes  for 
one  day ;  but  I  took  one,  nevertheless,  and  put  a  second  in 
my  pocket,  at  her  kind  persuasion.  This  was  the  first  of 
many  kindnesses  which  I  have  received  from  strangers  all 
over  the  wide  world;  ard  there  are  fesv,  if  any,  which  I 
shall  remember  longer. 

At  sunset  I  had  walked  twenty-two  miles,  and  had  taken 
to  tho  railroad  track  by  way  of  a  change,  when  I  came 
upon  a  freight  train,  which  had  stopped  on  account  of  some 
slight  accident.  "  Where  are  you  going  ?"  inquired  the  en- 
gineer. "To  Amboy."  "Take  you  there  for  a  quarter!" 
It  was  too  temptmg:  so  I  climbed  upon  the  tender,  and 
rested  my  weary  legs,  while  the  pines  and  drifted  sands 
flew  by  us  for  an  hour  or  moie — and  I  had  crossed  New 
Jersey ! 

There  was  the  ocean !  At  least  I  thought  so,  for  I  heard 
the  dash  of  waves  on  the  beach,  and  the  Neversink  was 
invisible  in  the  faint  mist  and  moonlight.  Instead  of  sup- 
per, I  took  a  bath— tasted  the  water,  and  found  it  bitter- 
salt.  There  was  no  doubt  of  it :  I  was  swimming  in  the 
Atlantic.  A  deep  sleep  in  some  tavern  followed;  but, 
hearing  at  daybreak  the  sad  sea-waves  again,  I  was  up,  and 
down  to  the  beach,  hunting  for  shells.     I  expected  to  find 


THE  FIRST  JOUENEY   I   EVEK   MADE.  7 

all  the  pearly  and  rosy  marvels  which  I  had  seen  in  our 
County  Cabinet  of  T^atural  Scienees,  profusely  scattered 
along  the  sand,  and  was  greatly  disappointed  to  see  only 
a  few  clams.    This  did  not  prevent  me  from  writing  a 
poem  entitled :     «  The  First  Sight  of  the  Ocean,"  which  I 
thought  a  very  fine  procJuction.    It  never  appeared  in 
Graham^s  Magazine  however  (to  which  I  sent  it),  and  is 
now  totally  lost  to  the  world. 

The  trip  from  Amboy  to  New  York  made  a  great  im- 
pres^on  upon  me.    The  beauty  of  the  shores,  the  breadth 
of  the  bay,  the  movement  of  the  thronging  vessels,  gave 
me  new  and  grand  ideas  of  the  life  of  Man,  and  for  the  first 
time  I  saw  the  place  of  my  nativity,  not  as  a  world  around 
wluch  all  other  interests  revolved,  but  as  an  insignificant 
speck,  the  existence  of  which  was  as  unimportant  as  it  was 
unnoticed.    The  magic  of  that  first  impression  has  never 
been  weakened.     Our  stately  harbor  is  to  me  now,  as  it  was 
then,  a  type  of  the  activity  of  the  age,  and  after  years  of 
wandering  I  never  return  to  it  without  the  old  thrill  of 
admiration-the  old  instinct  that  here,  of  all  other  places 
m  the  world,  isthe  great  arena  of  labor. 

I  readily  found  the  soda-water  estabUshment,  and  was 
jomed  in  the  afternoon  by  my  companion.     We  went  out 
tor  a  stroll  up  and  ^own  Broadway.     The  first  thing  we 
noticed  was  a  red  flag,  and  the  voice  of  an  auctioneer  sell 
njg  watches.     »  Oh,"  said  my  friend,  «  here  is  one  of  those 
places  where  you  can  get  gola  watches  so  cheap.    Let  us 
go  m!       and  in  we  went.    Two   or  three  fellows,  with 
heavy  chams  at  their  vests,  were  bidding  upon  5  silver 
watch.    "Only  two  dollars-going.-  cied  the  auctioneer 


o  AT  HOM£   AND   AIIIJOAD. 

"Th'O  and  a  half!"  t  igerly  shouted  my  companioji.     Evi- 
dently  the  Peter  Funks  wished  to  lead  him  on  gently,  for 
they  allowed  him  to  get  the  watch  for  four  dollars.     The 
earnestness  and  volubility  of  the  auction^  ••  amused  me,  and 
I  could  with  difficulty  restrain  my  laughter.    He,  however, 
put  a  different  interpretation  on  my  merriment,  and  looked 
quickly  away  whenever  he  caught  my  eye.     Innocent  as  I 
was,  he  must  have  supposed  that  I  understood  the  whole 
business.     "Let  me  see  that  watch— I'm  a  watchmaker 
myself,"  said  one  of  the  heavy  gentlemen.    He  opened  it, 
examined  the  works,  and  said :   "  It's  worn  out ;  it  won't 
go,  but  the  silver  is  worth  something.    I'll  allow  you  two 
dollars  for  it,  and  sell  you  this,  wliich  I  carry  myself,  for 
five."    My  companion  was  taken  in  a  second  time,  and  mude 
the   exchange.     The  watch,  however,  though  it  was  not 
silver,  kept  pretty  good  time  for  a  few  weeks. 

At  night,  the  question   was,  Where  shall  we  go?     It 
occurred  to  us,  finally,  that  there  was  a  hotel  called  the 
Howard  House,  not  far  from  John  street.    The  size  of  the 
building  imposed  upon  us  a  little,  but  we  had  never  heard 
of  more  than  twenty-five  cents  being  paid  for  lodging,  and 
went  cheerfully  to  bed.    But  in  the  morning  our  eyes 
were  opened.     "Six  shillings!"  said  the  clerk,  in  anwer  to 
our  inquiry.     "Six  shillings!"  we  both  mechanically  re- 
peated, in  breathless  astonishment.     '•'  Yes,  that  is  the  regu- 
lar charge,"  he  replied.    We  paid  the  money,  in  dumb 
bewilderment,  and  went  around  to  Gosling's,  in  Ann  street, 
for  our  breakfasts.    The  next  day,  our  names  appeared  in 
the  published  list  of  arrivals  at  the  Howard  House,  and  that, 
my  corapaniou  declared,  was  worth  at  least  four  shilling's. 


At  that  time  there  were  several  lines  of  steamboat,  oa 

he  I  „^„„,  and  their  competition  had  red„eed  the  fare 

o  Ca tskm  to  twenty-five  cents-whieh  was  greatly  to  „„r 

advantage.    We  enjoyed  to  the  fullest  e.tent,  the  seenery 

of  the  glonou,  n,er-still,  to  my  eyes,  after  «,ei„g  ,ho 

nannbe,  the  Rhine,  the  Rhone,  the  Nile,  a„.I  the  G^ 

cold  wind  and  occasional  shower  of  rain,  we  walked  the 
hurneane  deck  while  the  splendid  panorama  of  the  Pali- 
-H  Tappan  Zee,  and  the  Highlands  unfolded  on  IZ 

the  Vilas  around  Tarrytown,  I  was  accosted  by  a  sharp 
keen^o  ,„g  man,  with  "Ah,  here  you  are,  How  1 
yon  t      I  replied,  m  some  little  embarrassment.    "  Is  your 

hoard?    I'd  hke  to  see  him."    "No,  I  am  alone."    "Well 
I  want  to  hear  something  about  business.    I  have  my  eye' 
on  a  new  speculation.    Ml  pay  mighty  well_a  sure  thin. 
I  thmk  we  could  man.nge  it  very  well  together."    I  gav'J 
an  evas-ve  answer-not  knowing  whether  the  man  had  mis- 

form  of  the  ub,,u,tous  Peter  Funk.    As  ,  .on  as  possible, 

thel  7.^  ™'  "'  """'■''"^  »™''«''  W""  'l-'ng 

the  rest  of  the  passage.  * 

We  landed  at  Catskill  early  in  the  afternoon,  shouldered 

r  knapsacks,  and  set  off  for  the  Mountain  House.    The 

day  had  be,  ome  warm  and  clear,  and  the  grand  m,,sses  of 

he  mountams  rose  before  us,  clothed  in  the  softest  mantle 

o    hght  and  shadow,  as  if  covered  with  deep-Uue  velvet 

I'ey  have  never  since  appeared  to  me  so  high,  so  va*.  and 

1* 


10 


AT   HOME   AND  ADKOAD. 


« 


SO  beautiful.  The  green  pasture-land,  over  which  our  road 
lay,  with  its  forests  of  pine  and  hemlock,  singing  in  the  joy 
of  the  spring-time,  charmed  us  scarcely  less,  and  we  walked 
onward  in  a  wild  intoxication  of  delight.  After  we  had 
travelled  about  six  miles,  a  country  wagon  came  rattling 
along  behind  us.  In  it  sat  a  short,  thick-set  farmer,  with  a 
wife  of  still  ampler  proportions.  As  the  wagon  approached 
us,  he  reined  in  his  horsed  and  shouted  to  us :  "  Get  in  1 
get  in  I  there's  plenty  of  room,  and  we're  going  the  same 
way."  We  cheerfully  obeyed,  and  were  soon  on  the  most 
intimate  terms  with  the  jolly  people.  "  I  said  to  myself, 
the  minute  I  saw  you ! "  exclaimed  the  farmer,  with  a  laugh 
of  intense  satisfaction :  "  Here's  a  couple  of  farmer's  boys, 
who  have  just  got  their  corn  planted,  and  are  takmg  a  little 
lark  before  hay-harvest.  I'll  help  'em  along,  that  I  will !' 
and  you  see  I  wasn't  wrong,  Sarah  ?" — turning  to  his  wife. 
"ITo,  John,"  said  she,  "you're  always  in  the  right;"  and 
then  whispered  to  me,  who  sat  on  the  back  seat  with  her, 
"  I  3o  think  my  husband's  the  best  man  in  the  world.  We've 
been  married  now  goin'  on  thirty-six  years,  and  we've  never 
fell  out,  as  other  married  folks  do.  No,  indeed  !"  Her 
broad,  happy  face,  no  less  than  her  determined  voice,  pro- 
claimed the  utter  impossibility  of  such  a  thing. 

"  I've  got  a  son,  John,"  she  continued  "  and  he's  lately  mar- 
ried, and  gone  to  keepin'  house.  She's  the  nicest  little 
daughter-in-law  I  ever  seen.  Why,  you  wouldn't  know 
but  she  was  our  own  born  child !"  The  old  lady  was  fairly 
eloquent  in  praise  of  her  son's  wife.  She  explained  to  me 
minutely  how  she  kept  her  house  in  order,  how  many  cows 
she  milked,  how  neat  she  was,  how  active,  how  saving,  how 


HIE   nilST  JOIRMEV  I  EVER  MADE.  jj 

el,.e,ful,  and  how  beautiful.    WMIo  these  confidential  d* 
cloaures  were  going  „„,  ,.„  had  reached  a  little  viUage  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountains.    "  Law  I  •'  she  suddenly  exclaimed, 
there  s  my  son  John  l_John  1  John !    Here's  two  stran- 
gers we  rucked  up  on  the  road.    I've  been  telU,,.  'em  about 
you  and  Hannah  Jano! "    John,  however,  who  was  engaged 
'"  "■°/"8™"  "«''  of  ^^"gging  along  .  refractory  pi.^  by  a 
rope  fastened  to  one  of  its  hind  legs,  and  who  lo'oked  very 
varm  and  vexed,  was  not  so  cordial  towards  us.    He  nod- 
<Ie<l  (here  the  pig  made  a  bolt.)  "Darn  that  pig!    Are  you 
eommg  our  way,  mother?    (.Vnother  bolt  across  the  road, 
fclowed  by  John.)  I  want  to  speak  about  that  (back 
agam,  and  off  the  other  side)  calf!"  • 

Here  we  judged  it  bes.  to  Lave  our  good  friends,  and 
co„,me„ce  the  ascent  of  the  mountain.    With  a  hiarty 
shake  of  the  hand,  the  fanner,  who  had  learned  our  plans 
™d:  "You  won',  be  far  from  our  house,  as  you  go  ^"^ 
^  .ithyeus  (Athens),  and  you  must  stop  L  g^  Ze^ 

With  us.     Don't  forjret  John ,  i, 

these  parts  .gain !"  '  "''"'"""  ^°"  «""">  '» 

We  climbed  hmily,  and  just  as  s„„.,et  was  fadin..  f,«m 
^e  Eerksh,re  Hi!ls,  stood  on  the  rocky  plat.bm,  UrlZ 
Mou„,.,m  House.    Outside  of  Switzerland,  there  .are  few 
»n<^apes  m  Europe  of  eqnal  beauty,  and  this  «.t  t  -i  I 
P  a  weahzauon  of  mountain-scenery  wa-  all  that  my  boy- 
-h  .mag^^nafon  had  painted,  and  more.    The  „i„ht    were 
-oon-hghted;  and  the  view  of  the  vast,  mysteriou     de 
--ed  by  the  ..iut  silver  gleam  of  .he  Hudson,  a    I  Z' 
■t  fiom  my  pUlow,  kept  me  from  sleep  for  hours.    The  Z 
day  was  one  of  unmixed  enjoyment.    We  cUmbed  the  nonn 


\^nh»»:=*p!-i 


12 


AT    IK)MK   AND   ABKOAI). 


II 

I   ! 


and  south  peaks,  visited  the  Cauterskill  Falls,  lay  on  the 
grass  inhaling  the  odor  of  blossoming  strawberries  and  the 
resinous  breath  of  the  pines,  and  indulged  in  the  delicious 
intoxication  of  the  hour,  without  a  thought  beyond.  "Wc 
were  the  first  visitors  that  season,  and  possessed  the  moun- 
tains alone.  "While  sitting  on  the  rocks,  I  wrote  some 
lines  of  diluted  poetry  on  a  bit  of  drawing  paper,  w  hicli 
fell  out  of  my  pocket  afterwards — as  I  subsequently  disco- 
vered, to  my  great  regret.  Fortune,  however,  is  kinder 
towards  bad  poetry  than  good.  The  lines  were  found  by  a 
lady,  some  weeks  later,  and  restored  to  me  through  the 
columns  of  the  N'ew  York  Tribune.  I  have  lost  better 
poems  since,  an(>  nobody  picks  them  out  of  the  dust. 

On  the  second  morning,- wo  came  down  to  the  level  of 
common  earth  again,  and  a  walk  of  twenty  miles  or  more 
brought  ua  to  Athens,  opposite  Hudson,  in  the  evening. 
Here  we  slept,  and  then  set  off  at  daybreak,  intending  to 
reach  Stockbridge  that  day.  But  one  shower  after  another 
delayed  us  on  the  road;  we  got  bewildered  among  the 
Claverack  Hills,  and  were  fain  to  stop  at  a  farm-house  early 
in  the  afternoon,  to  solicit  rest  and  a  dinn  r.  The  residents 
were  a  young  couple,  still  overcome  with  the  pride  and  hap- 
piness of  their  first  child.  A  judicious  nursing  of  the  latter, 
while  the  mother  prepared  dinner,  no  doubt  procured  for 
us  the  best  the  house  could  afford.  We  had  ham  and  eggs, 
potatoes,  mince  pie  and  coffee  (Don't  I  remember  every 
thing,  even  to  the  pattern  of  the  plates  ?),  and  were  dismiss- 
ed with  good  wishes — the  honest  young  fellow  refusing  to 
take  payment  for  the  meal.  This  hospitality  was  well-timed, 
as  our  resources  {inine,  at  least)  were  fast  dwindling  away. 


THE   FIRST  JOUBNEY    I    EVKB   MADE.  18 

I  became  suddenly  conscious  that  it  would  bo  impossible  to 
carry  out  my  plan  in  all  its  original  grandeur.  What  was 
to  be  done  ?  We  sat  down  on  a  bank  of  damp  violets,  and 
held  a  serious  consultation,  the  result  of  which  wrts,  that  we 
turned  about,  rather  crest-fallen,  and  'marched  back  to  Hud- 
son, wherfi  we  anived  after  dark. 

The  rain  the  next  day  justified  our  decision,  and  we 
therefore  took  the  twenty-five-cent  steamer  to  New  York. 
Here  I  parted  from  my  companion,  slept  (not  at  the  Howard 
House,  though!),  and  then  set  out  for  Philadelphia.     By 
taking  the  cars  to  New  Brunswick,  and  walking  thence  to 
Trenton,  in  time  to  catch  the  evening  boat  to  Philadelphia, 
I  maTiaged  to  make  the  journey  for  one  dollar,  and  thereby 
cheat  our  Danish  State  out  of  her  passenger  toll.     The 
day  was  hot,  the  road  dusty,  and  my  spirits  much  less 
buoyant  than  when  on  the  outward  tramp,  but  by  hard 
walking  I  got  over  the  twenty-eight  miles  in  seven  hours. 
One  more  day,  mostly  on  foot,  and  I  was  at  home,  trium- 
phant, with  nine  cents  in  my  pocket,  and  a  colossal  cold  in 
my  head. 

Humboldt  once  told  me:  "Travelling  certainly  increases 
a  man's  vitality,  if  it  does  not  kill  him  at  the  start."  This 
was  my  first  -moderate  essay,  at  the  age  of  eighteen.  And 
I  advise  all  callow  youths  who  think  it  an  easy  matter  to 
tramp  over  the  whole  world,  to  ma]:e  a  similar  trial  trip 
and  get  theiv  engines  int.  good  working-order,  before 
fanly  putting  out  to  sea. 


tM 


II. 


A  NIGHT  WALK. 


Befoeb  asking  my  readers  to  accompany  me  across  the 
ocean,  in  order  that  we  may  explore  together  those  out-of- 
the-way  nooks  of  travel  and  life,  which,  because  they  do 
not  form  an  integral  part  of  the  tourist's  scheme,  are  gene- 
rally omitted  or  overlooked  (like  the  closets  in  a  house). 
Let  me  recall  one  more  preliminary  experience — of  trifling 
import,  perhaps,  yet  it  clings  to  my  memory  with  wonder- 
ful tenacity. 

A  year  after  my  trip  to  the  Catskills,  I  was  occupied 
with  tue  preparations  for  a  far  more  extensive  and  ambi- 
tious journey.  I  found  myself  at  last  free,  and  though  the 
field  before  me  >vas  untried  and  diflicult,  I  looked  forward 
to  it  with  as  light  a  heart  as  had  carried  me  across  New 
Jersey  and  up  the  Hudson.  My  preparations  were  simple 
enough— French  and  German  grammars,  a  portfolio,  and  a 
few  shirts.     By  the  beginning  of  June  (1844)  I  was  readj 


A   NIGUT  WALK. 


15 


to  set  out.  My  cousin— whose  intention  of  visiting  Europe 
had  been  the  cause  of  precipitating  my  own  plans— was 
also  ready,  when  another  very  important  need  suddenly 
occurred  to  us.     We  had  no  passports. 

In  the  country,  where  no  one  Uved  who  had  ever  been 
outside  of  his  native  land,  we  were  quite  unacquainted  with 
any  means  by  which  our  passports  could  be  procured, 
except  by  going  to  Washington.     For  my  part,  I  sup' 
posed  that  when  a  gentleman  wished  to  travel,  he  was 
obliged  to  report  himself  at  our  national  capital  and  pro- 
bably undergo  a  strict  examination.    There  was  no  help 
for  it-we  must  make  the  journey.     The  distance  was  more 
than  a  hundred  miles,  and  we  calculated  that,  by  taking  a 
steamboat  from  the  mouth  of  the  Susquehanna  River  to 
Baltimore,  we  could  walk  the  remainder  of  the  distance  in 
two  days.     So,  on  a  fine  June  morning,  we  started. 

The  first  fifteen  miles  led  through  a  lovely  region  of 
farms  and  villages— a  country  of  richer  and  more  g  .rden- 
like  beauty  than  any  which  can  be  seen  this  side  of  Eng- 
land. The  semi-tropical  summer  of  Southern  Pennsylvania 
and  Virginia  had  just  fairly  opened  in  its  prodigal  splendor. 
ITedge-rows  of  black  and  white  -horn  lined  the  road;  fields 
were  covered,  as  with  a  purple  mist,  by  the  blossoms  of 
the  clover;  and  the  tall  tulip-trees  sparkled  with  meteoric 
showers  of  golden  stars.  June,  in  this  latitude,  is  as  gor- 
geous as  the  Indian  Isles.  As  the  hills,  however,  begin  to 
subside  towards  Chesapeake  Bay,  the  scenery  changes. 
The  soil  becomes  more  thin  and  sandy;  the  pine  and  "the 
rough-barked  persimmons  Huppl.mt  the  oak  and  ehn; 
thickets    of  paw-paw— our    northern   banana— and  chin- 


I 


I    I 


u 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


capin  (a  shrub  variety  of  the  chestnut)  appear  in  the  wai-m 
hollows,  and  barren  tracts  covered  with  a  kind  of  shrub- 
oak,  called  «  black-jack,"  along  the  Eastern  Shore,  thrust 
themselves  between  the  cultivated  farms.  Mason  and 
Dixon's  line  seems  here  to  mark  the  boundary  between 
different  zones  of  vegetation.  The  last  n  rthem  elm  waves 
its  arms  to  the  first  southern  cypress. 

As  we  were  plodding  along  in  the  heat  and  dust,  having 
still  five  miles  of  our  day's  work  of  thirty  to  perform,  wo 
met  a  curious  old  man,  on  foot  like  ourselves.    He  was  tall 
and  strongly  made— an  iron  frame,  whose  original  vigor 
was  still  visible  under  all  tue  rust  aud  batter  of  seventy 
years— with  long,  grizzly  hair  hanging  over  his  weather- 
beaten  face,  and  a  pair  of  sharp,  gray  eyes.     He  was,  evi- 
dently, one  of  the  last  of  those  men  in  whom  the  lawless 
trapper-blood  of  a  portion  of  the  first  colonists  has  been 
transmitted,  by  inheritance,  long  after  the  occupation  of 
the  class  has  passed  away.    I  remember  such  a  one,  whose 
favorite  dish  was  opossum;  who  always  made  his  own  hat 
of  rabbit-skins ;    and  whose  habit  of  carrying  live  black 
snakes  in  his  bosom,  made  him  at  once  the  terror  and 
the  admiration  of  us  boys.    The  old  man  stopped  before  us, 
fixed  us  with  his  eye,  like  Coleridge's  "Ancient  Mariner,'' 
and  said,  after  a  moment  of  keen  inspection :  "  So,  boys, 
you're  starting  into  the  world?"    We  assented.     "Well,' 
go  on;   you'll  get  through,"  he  continued;  "but  let  me 
give  you  one  bit  of  advice.     I  never  saw  you  before,  and 
I'll  never  see  you  again  ;  but  if  you'll  mind  my  words'  you 
won't  be  the  worse  for't.    You'll  get  knocked  about  a  good 
deal,  that's  sure ;  but— /ear  no  devils  fnit  j/onrselves,  and 


A   NIGHT   WALK. 


17 


you'll  ^ome  out  aU  right."  With  that,  he  shook  hands 
with  U8,  smiled  in  a  gritn  yet  not  unkindly  way,  and  went 
on.  Doubtless  he  spoke  from  bitter  experience:  he  had 
been  his  own  tempting  and  tormenting  devil. 

We  reached  Port  Deposit,  on  the  Susquehanna  River,  in 
season  to  take  the  evening  steamer  for  Baltimore.     There 
were  no  other  passengers,  but  we  had  a  dozen  or  more 
canal-boats  in  tow.    The  sweetness  and  splendor  of  that 
evening  will  never  fade  from  my  mind.    It  is  laid  away  in 
the  same  portfolio  with  mai-vellous  sunsets  on  the  becalmed 
Pacific;  with  twilights  on  the  Venetian  lagunes;  and  with 
the  silence  and  mystery  of  the  star-Ut  Desert.     The  glassy 
water,  reduplicating  the  sunset,  was  as  transparent  as  air, 
and  the  gentle  breeze,  created  by  the  motion  of  the  boat,' 
was  vital  with  that  sweetest  of  all  odors-the  smell  of  bios- 
soraing  grasses  on  the  low  and  distant  shores.    Standing 
on  the  hurricane-deck,  we  seemed  to  be  plowing  through 
the  crystal  firmament,  steering  forth  from  the  fading  earth 
towards  some  unknown    planet.     So   fair  and  beautiful 
seemed  to  me  then  the  world  into  which  I  was  embarking 
—so  far  behind  me  the  shores  of  the  boyish  life  I  had  left. 
But  towards  midnight  the  winds  blew  and  the  waves 
rose.    Two  of  the  canal-boats  we  had  in  tow  broke  adrift, 
and  floated  away  ;  and  a  man,  in  securing  another,  had  his 
finger  caught  in  a  noose  of  the  hawser  and  instantly  taken 
ofl".    We  ran  into  shallow  water  and  anchored,  where  we 
lay  t  jmng  untU  morning.     So  new  was  aU  this  to  me,  that 
I  imagined  we  had  gone  through  a  terrible  storm,  and  was 
rather  surprised  to  find  the  captain  so  cool  and  uncon- 
corned.     In  consequence  of  this  delay,  we  did  not  reach 


cJ^^PPj 


18 


AT   HOKE  AND  ABBOAD. 


Baltimore  until  the  evening  of  the  next  day,  and  as  the 
steamer's  larder  was  not  provided  lor  such  an  emergency, 
our  fare  consisted  of  salt  meat  and  black  coifee.  The  cap- 
tain, however,  apologised  for  his  bad  luck  (the  fact  of  our 
being  bound  for  Washington  seemed  to  inspire  him  with 
great  respect),  and  made  no  charge  for  our  hard  fare. 

"  Let  us,"  said  my  cousin,  as  we  stepped  ashore  at  Balti- 
more, "walk  on  to  Ellicott's  Mills,  which  is  only  eight  or 
nine  miles  further,  and  sleep  there  to-night.     We  can  then 
easily  go  to  Washington  to-morrow."    This  was  a  prudent 
proposal,  and  we  started  without  delay.    The  sun  set,  the 
short  twilight  faded  away,  and  it  was  about  nine  o'clock, 
although  not  yet  wholly  dark,  when  we  reached  the  little 
village  below  the  railroad  viaduct.    Tired  and  very  hungry 
—for  we  had  not  supped— we  halted  at  the  tavern,  rejoic- 
ing that  our  day's  journey  was  at  an  end.    To  our  surprise, 
the  houpc  was  dark,  and  the  doors  locked.    After  knocking 
vigorously  for  some  time,  an  upper  window  was  raised,  and 
a  man's  head  appeared :  "  What  do  you  want  ?  "  he  asked 
in  a  surly  tone.     "  We  want  lodgings.     This  is  a  tavern, 
isn't  it?"  said  we.     "Yes,  it's  a  tavern;  but  it's  too  late 
now.     The  law  don't  oblige  me  to  keep  it  open  after  nine 
o'clock."     "Well,"  we  mildly  suggested,  "it's  not  so  late 
but  you  can  come  down  and  let  us  in."     "  I  tell  you,"  he 
roared,  "  the  law  don't  oblige  me,  and  Iw<  h%'>'> — wheie- 
upon  he  slammed  d  jwn  the  window,  remrini   ^  obstinately 
deaf  to  our  further  knocks. 

This  was  rather  discouraging,  especially  as  everybody  in 
the  village  seemed  to  be  already  in  b-d.  There  was  nothing 
to  be  done  but  to  go  on  to  the  .lext  tavern,  which— as  we 


'«§: 


A  NIGHT  WALK. 


19 


learned  from  a  most  dissipated  man  whom  we  met  on  the 
road  (actually  out  at  half-past  nine  in  the  euing !)  was 
about  three  miles  further.     In  spite  of  the  ,y  Toolness 

of  the  summer  night,  and  the  cheerful  twinkling  of  constel- 
lations of  fire-flies  over  the  meado^vs,  we  were  thoroughly 
wearied  out  on  reaching  our  second  haven  of  refuge.     But 
our  luck  was  still  worse  than  at  the  first.     All  our  knocking 
and  shouting  failed  to  provoke  a  single  response.     Once  or 
twice  we  heard  a  footstep,  as  if  some  one  were  making  a 
stealthy  observation,  and  then  deep  and  persistent  silence. 
Thoroughly  disheartened,  we  resumed  our  painful  march 
We  had  proceeded  a  mile  or  two  further,  and  the  time  was 
verging  towards  midnight,  when  a  blaze  of  light  suddenly 
streamed  across  the  road,  and  the  sound  of  music  reached 
our  ears.     On  the  right  hand,  in  a  grove  of  trees,  stood 
the  mansion  of  a  country  gentleman,  lighted  up  as  for  a 
bnlhant  festival.     ^<  Here,  at  least,  the  people  are  awake  » 
said  I.     "  Let  us  inquire  whether  there  is  any  tavern  near 
where  we  can  get  lodgings."     We  entered  the  gate  and 
walked  up  the  lawn,  towards  the  house.    The  windows 
were  open,  each  one  inclosing  in  its  frame  of  darkness  a 
picture  of  perfect  light  and  beauty.     Young  girls,  m  white 
brJl  dresses  and  with  wreaths  of  roses  in  their  hair,  were 
moving  to  and  fro  in  the  dance,  as  if  swaying  lightly  on 
the  delicious  waves  of  the  music.     I  had  never  before  seen 
anything  so  lovely.    It  must  be  a  wedding,  or  some  other 
joyous  occasion,  I  thought;  they  will  ceitainlv  give  us  a 
Iter.    By  this  time  we  reached  the  portico,' which  was 
occupied  by  a  group  of  gentlemen.     My  cousin,  addressing 
lumself  to  the  central  personage,  who  was  evidently  the 


20 


AT  tiOM£  AND   ABROAD. 


I  ! 


master  of  the  house,  said  :  «  Can  you  tell  us,  sir,  where  we 
can  find  lodgings  for  the  night  ?  »    If  a  barrel  of  powder 
had  been  fired  and  the  whole  house  blown  into  the  air,  we 
could  not  have  been  more  astonished  than  at  the  result  of 
this  question.    The  person  addressed  (I  will  not  repeat  the 
word  "gentleman")  turned  suddenly  and  fiercely  upon  us. 
"  Begone !"  he  shouted  :  «  Leave  the  place,  instantly !    Do 
you  hear  me  ?     Off]"     We  were  struck  dumb  an  instant ; 
t/.en  my  cousin,  with  as  much  dignity  as  his  indignation 
would  permit,  stated  that  we  were  strangers,  benighted 
and  seeking  an  inn,  and  required  nothing  of  him  except  the 
few  words  of  information  which  he  could  give,  and  we  had 
a  right  to  expect.    A  fresh  volley  of  abuse  followed,  which 
we  cuf,  short  by  turning  and  walking  away— the  other 
persons  having  been  silent  spectators  of  this  singular  inter- 
view. 

We  marched  rapidly  onward  into  the  night,  burning 
with  indignati<.n.     If  joy  gives  wings  to  the  feet,  anger  has 
an  efiect  no  less  potent.     For  two  hours,  the  feeling  was 
strong  enough  to  overcome  our  sense  of  exhaustion,  but 
Nature  yielded  at  last.     We  were  tormented  by  raging 
■  thirst,  and  finding  no  running  streams,  were  forced  to  drink 
from  ditches  and  standing  pools,  closing  our  teeth  to  keep 
out  tho  tadpoles  and  water-beetles.     The  draught  created 
a  nausea  which  added  tc  our  faintness.     The  fire-flies  still 
danced  over  the  meadows  ;  the  whip-poor-wills  cried  from 
the  fences,  sometimes  so  near  that  I  could  almost  have 
touched  them  with  my  hand,  and  the  air  was  filled  with 
the  silvery  film  of  the  falling  dew.     We  sat  down  on  a 
bank,  utterly  spiritless  and  desperate.     I  proposed  sleeping 


A   NIGHT   WALK, 


21 


under  a  tree,  but  we  feared  the  dampness  of  the  earth,  and 
after  starting  and  rejecting  various  propositions,  fin.Hy 
decided  to  try  the  fences.    These  were  of  the  zig-za^r  kind 
called  "worm  fences,"  with  stakes  at  the  comers^  held 
down  by  heavy  riders.     Selecting  the  broadest  rails,  we 
lay  down ;  but  the  first  approach  of  sleep  betrayed  to  us 
the  oanger  of  rolling  off  such  a  lofty  and  narrow  perch 
To  sit  on  a  sharp  rail  fence  is  not  agreeable ;  but  to  sleep 
even  on  a  broad  one,  is  still  less  so.    Since  that  night  I 
have  acquired  such  a  distaste  to  being  «  on  the  fence,"  that 
I  always  take  one  side  of  a  question  at  once,  at  whatever 
risk  of  inconsistency. 

For  another  hour  we  dragged  ourselves  onward,  rather 
tLar,  walked.    Every  minute  I  caugl.t  myself  in  the  act  of 
flilhng,  and  once  feU  before  I  could  recover  the  balance 
About  three  in  the  morning  we  passed  a  farm-house,  in  the 
cattle-yard  adjoining  which  stood  two  carts.    Here  was  at 
last  a  place  of  repose,  as  welcome  as  a  couch  of  eider-down  I 
We  crept  in  among  the  startled  oxen,  who  sniffed  and 
snorted  their  suspicions  of  such  an  unusual  proceeding  and 
lay  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  car*-bed.    I  suppose  we 
sl'^pt  about  an  hour,  when,  finding  ourselves  stiff  and  sore 
though  a  little  recruited,  we  resumed  our  journoy     The 
morning  twilight  now  came  to  our  assistance,  so  that  we 
got  at  least  ciean  water  to  drink.    At  sunrise,  we  were  in 
Wadensburg,  and  broke  our  long  fast  at  a  hospitable  inn 
1  wo  hours  more,  and  we  were  crossing  Capi.ol  HUl,  having 
Avalked  forty  miles  since  sunset. 

Dusty,  footsore  and  faint,  we  trudged  along  Pennsylvania 
Avenue,  seeking  the  boarding-house  where  the  Member  of 


22 


AT   HOUE   AND   ABBOAO. 


il 


Congross  from  our  district  lodged.     On  applying  for  a 
room,  tlie  hostess  looked  at  us  with  suspicion,  naturally 
hesitating,  until  some  references  which  we  gave  restored  a 
certain  degree  of  confidence.   We  lay  down  and  instantly  fell 
asleep.    The  servant  roused  us  for  dinner,  after  which  we 
slept  until  called  to  tea.     We  then  went  to  bed,  and  slept 
until  the  next  morning.     In  the  whole  course  of  my  subse- 
quent travels,  I  have  never  suffered  from  fatigue,  hunger, 
and  thirst  to  such  an  extent  as  on  that  night.    I  have  gone 
without  food  \  day  and  a  half;  without  sleep  four  nights ; 
have  walked  two  hundred  miles  in  six  days,  and  ridden 
three  hundred  and  seventy-eight  miles  in  a  cart,  without 
pause  or  rest,  but  all  these  experiences,  trying  as  they  were, 
shook  my  powers  of  endurance  less  than  the  first  trial. 
I  remember  them  with  a  certain  amount  of  pleasure  ;  but 
I  never  recall  my  night-walk  from  Baltimore  to  Washington 
wi  .hout  a  strange  reflected  sense  of  pain. 

The  member  from  our  district  (Hon.  A.  R.  McEvaine) 
kindly  accompanied  us  to  the  Deportment  of  State,  and 
presented  us  to  Mr.  Calhoun,  whose  frankness,  simplicity, 
and  courtesy  made  a  profound  impression  upon  me.  Our 
passports  were  immediately  prepared,  and  given  to  us.  In 
the  Hall  of  Representatives  I  felt  honored  in  taking  the 
hand  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  and  hearing  a  few  words  of 
encouragement  from  his  lips.  Our  member  was  so  incon- 
siderately generous  as  to  purchase  five  copies  of  a  juvenile 
volume  which  I  had  published,  by  which  means  my  funds 
were  increased  sufficiently  to  warrant  me  in  returning  to 
Baltimore  by  railroad.    I  had  had  quite  enough  of  the  old 


highw 


ay- 


m-^ 


A   NIGHT   WALK. 


23 


We  took  the  same  steamer  back  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Susquehanna,  and  walked  the  remaining  thirty  miles  I 
reached  home  after  midnight,  and  entering  a  bed-chamber 
through  the  window,  according  to  my  usual  custom,  threw 
some  guests,  who  had  arrived  the  day  before,  into  a  horrible 
state  of  alarm. 


I 


i' 


I 


I 


III. 


FIRST  DIFFICULTIES  WITII  FOREIGN  TONGUES. 


I  AM  frequentlpr  asked  whether  travel  in  a  country,  with 
the  language  of  wliich  you  are  unacquainted,  is  not  attended 
with  great  difficulty  and  embarrassment.  All  difficulties, 
like  all  dangers,  appear  far  more  formidable  "t  a  distance 
than  when  one  b  brought  fa'^e  to  face  with  them*  yet  a 
certain  amount  of  experience  is  always  necessary  to  enable 
one  to  encounter  perplexities  of  this  kind  with  that  courage 
and  self-possession  which  take  away  half  their  terror  at  the 
onset.  If  all  mankind  were  suddenly  deprived  of  the  power 
of  speech,  the  embarrassment  and  confusion  would  be  very 
great  for  a  few  days ;  but  a  fortnight  would  not  elapse 
bof'jre  government,  business,  and  society  would  move  on 
in  their  accustomed  courses.  On  entering  a  foreign  coun- 
try, however,  you  are  only  deprived  of  the  faculty  of  com- 
prehension.  The  aids  of  tone  and  expression  are  added  to 
those  of  signs  and  gestures,  and  that  unused  power  of 


FIB8T  DIFFICULTIES   WITH    FOKKIGX  TONGUES.  25 

interpretation  which  appears  to  us  marvellously  developed 
m  the  deaf  and  dumb,  is  at  once  called  into  action     Thus 
an  imperfect  knowledge  of  a  language-especially  of  the 
niceties  of  its  pronunciation-is  very  often   a  hindrance 
rather  than  a  help,  bec.us«  it  prevents  us  from  using  those 
ennple  aids  which  are  of  universal  significance,     t  once 
asked  Ida  Pfeiffer  how  she  managed  to  communicate  with 
the  people  in  Tahiti,  in  Persia,  Circassia,  and  other  coun- 
tries where    she   was    unacquainted   with  tho  language 
"Entirely  by  signs,"  she  answered,  "  until  I  have  acquired 
the  few  words  whieh  are  necessary  to  express  my  wants  • 
and  I  have  never  experienced  any  difllculty  i,,  making  my! 
self  understood." 

In  Europe  the  fn-  ilities  of  travel  have  multiplied  so 
greatly  within  the  la.t  twenty  years,  that  th^  veriest  Cock- 
ney may  travel  from  London  to  Vienna  and  find  his  own 
language  spoken  in  every  hotel  he  enters-provided  he  is 
able  to  pay  for  the  luxury.     Railroads  have  not  only 
brought  about  the  abolition  of  all  the  real  annoyances  of 
the  passport  system,  but  they  have  increased  travel  to  such 
an  extent  as  to  make  it,  in  some  countries,  the  chief  source 
of  revenue  to  the  people-who  are  thus  obliged  to  accom- 
modate themselves  in  every  possible  way  to  the  wants  of 
their  customers.     But  at  the  time  of  my  first  journey 
aoroad,  in  1844,  this  was  still  far  from  bemg  the  ca.e,  and 
a  more  minute  account  of  my  initiatory  experiences  than  I 
l^ave  yet  given,  may  be  of  some  interest  to  the  nwnooloe 
reader. 

On  an  August  evening,  we  looked  across  the  British 
Channel  from  the  summit  of  Shakspeare's  Cliff.     The  misty 


26 


AT   UOM£   AND    ABROAD. 


outline  of  the  French  coast  rose  beyond  the  water,  like  the 
bhore  of  an  unknown  world,  England  can  never  seem  a 
foreign  country  to  the  American  ;  and  hence  be  cannot 
thoroughly  aporeciate  and  enjoy  it  until  after  he  has 
visited  the  Continent — unfil  his  home  habits  and  pre- 
judices have  been  so  far  obliterated  that  he  can  receive 
impressions  without  constantly  drawing  comparisons.  I 
would  advise  every  one  who  wishes  to  derive  the  greatest 
advantage  from  i  European  tour,  to  visit  England  last  of 

We  were  even  more  excited  with  the  thought  of  cross- 
ing the  Chaniicl  than  we  had  been,  a  month  previous,  with 
the  first  sight  of  the  Old  World.  The  Ostend  steamer, 
■v^'hich  left  only  three  times  a  week,  was  to  start  at  fnir 
o'clock  in  the  niorning,  and  we  took  early  lodgings  at  one 
of  the  famous  (or  rather  infamous)  Dover  tuverns.  There 
were  no  "through  lines"  *ad  "through  tickets,"  as  now, 
when  one  may  pass  witJiOut  detention  from  Liverpool  to 
the  railroad  stations  nearest  Asia.  The  landlord  promised 
to  call  us  in  season  for  the  boat,  but  his  looks  did  not 
inspire  us  with  confidence  ;  and  our  sleep,  tormented  with 
the  fear  of  being-  too  late,  was  fortunately  very  broken 
and  disturbed.  At  three  o'clock  we  rose  and  dressed  by 
moonlight.  No  one  was  stirring  in  the  house.  V7e  waited 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  then  groped  our  way  down-st  i'*>; 
to  the  coffee-room.  Feeling  around  in  the  dark,  we  at  labt 
reached  the  bell-rope  and  sounded  a  peal.  The  echoes 
rang  through  the  house,  but  no  voice  answered.  The 
outer  door  was  double-locked  and  the  key  taken  away. 
Just  then,  we  heard  the  first  bell  rung  on  board  the 


/  - 


riBST  WFFICULTIJM   WITII   FOEmOK  TOM17B8.  2, 

«tca,„or,  and  k„o.  .hat  we  had  but  t.onty  mi„u.«  m„.e. 
Tl,o  caso  dm^dod  da,,»ra.o  mean^  «>  »,  jUtributed 
oar  force,  and  commenced  a  .imul.aneous  attack.     One 
.ang  the  bcl!  incessantly;  one  thumped  up  and  down  the 
.t..rc-«  wth  the  handle  of  an  umbreUa;  and  the  third 
pomuled  upon  the  door  of  a  bedroon.  which  we  supposed 
.0  be  the  landlord-,.    Even  thU  produced  no  effect :  we 
were  caged,  to  be  kept  two  daya  longer.    At  laat,  the 
-econd  bel  n.„g_onIy  five  min„.e»  more!    Our  voices 
were  added  to  the  tumult,  and  our  rage  and  anxiety  found 
vent  m  a  series  of  the  most  dreadful  y„||,.    Kfe,,,  ,„a  ^,^ 
could  not  stand  this,  and  i.resently  the  landlord  made  his 
appearance,  in  his  shirt,  rubbing  his  eyes,  and  pretending 
to  be  just  aroused  from  sleep.    I  believe  nothbg  but  the 
fear  of  personal  violence  induced  him  to  unlock  the  door. 
We  snatched  our  knapsacks  and  rushed  do»-„  the  quay  at 
full  speed    reaching  the  steamer  just  a,  ,.  ,  pla„\  was 
bemg  hauled  ashore. 

■n,e  OK-  „el  was  smooth  as  glass,  and  the  mild  splendor 
of  .^  summer  morning,  painting  the  chalky  ramparts  of 
England  w.th  a  pencil  of  pink  flame,  gradually  restored 
our  e,„an.m.ty.    At  ten  o'clock,  we  ran  into  the  harbor 

O^tead.  I  had  learned  to  read  a  little  French  at  school, 
but  had  never  spoken  the  language,  nor  was  my  ear  at  a! 

famihar  with  the  sound  of  it.    However  there  „ 
ntl.n,  ...    II  .  lowever,  there  were  some 

o  1  er  tr.,veners  on  board,  and  by  carefUlly  watching  and 
»ollo.mg  ,he,r  movements,  we  complied  with  the  tece. 
sary  regulations  regarding  passports  and  baggage.  The 
tram  for  Bruges  did  not  leave  for  two  or  three  hou«,  and 
wo  spent  the  intermediate  time  in  wandering  abou   the 


28 


AT   HOMB   AND   AUKOAD. 


city,  inspecting  its  ugly,  yellow  houses,  listening  to  the 
queer  Flemish  dialect,  wondering  at  the  clatter  of  wooden 
glioes — in  short,  iu  a  general  condition  of  astonishment  and 
open-mouthed  observation. 

At  the  station,  t  iw  v.'(  -^  "Bruges"  was  sufficient  to 
procure  us  tickets ;  v  v  exhil  ition  of  the  tickets  got  our 
baggage  checked;  and  we  set  ont  from  Ostend,  in  high 
glee  at  our  s'lccess.  In  an  hour  we  were  at  Bruges,  feel- 
ing a  little  less  confident  as  we  walked  away  from  the  sta- 
tion. Here,  however,  we  were  accosted  by  a  sort  of 
shabby  valet-de-place,  who  spoke  a  few  words  of  English, 
and  offered  to  guide  us  through  the  city  for  a  franc.  I 
have  not  a  very  distinct  recollection  of  our  walk,  except  of 
the  dim,  imposing  cathedral  (the  first  mediaeval  church  I 
ever  entered),  and  some  beautiful  altar-pieces,  from  the 
pencil  of  Hans  Ilemling.  I  remember,  however,  that  the 
evening  was  dark  and  rainy,  and  that  I  began,  presently, 
to  feel  miserably  strange  and  lonely.  The  guide  mformed 
us  that  a  trekshuyt  was  to  start  that  evening,  on  the  canal, 
for  Ghent,  and  we  could  get  passage,  including  a  bed,  for 
three  francs.  He  accordingly  conducted  us  to  the  dark 
old  barge,  and  gave  us  into  the  captain's  care.  We  left 
our  knapsacks  in  the  cabin ;  I  went  back  to  the  town,  in 
the  rain  and  twilight,  to  hear  the  chimes  of  the  belfry  in 
the  market-square,  while  my  companions  tried  their  hick 
in  purchasing  material  for  a  supper.  They  could  point  at 
the  articles  displayed  in  the  winilov/s  and  on  the  shelves, 
and  offer  pieces  of  money ;  but  their  choice  was  neces- 
sarilv  restricted  to  what  they  saw,  for  they  were  unable  to 
ask  for  anything.    When  we  met  again,  in  the  low  cabin  of 


FIKST  DIFFICULTIES   WITH   FOREIGN  TOKGUES.  29 

the  trekshtcyt,  they  produced  a  loaf,  a  piece  of  powerful 
cheese,  and  some  raisins  and  almonds,  which  constituted  our 
supper. 

To  youth  and  hunger,  however,  nothing  comes  amiss, 
and  our  meal  was  a  cheerful  and  satisfactory  one     The 
cabin,  whose  black  timbers  made  it  appear  a  century  old, 
was  dimly  lighted  by  a  single  candle.    We  were  alone  in 
the  boat;  for,  although  the  hour  fixed  for  our  departure 
was  past,  neither  the  captain  nor  the  sailors  had  made  their 
appearance.    Afterwards,  we  retired  to  rest,  in  wide,  pon- 
derous berths,  containing  delicious  beds,  of  the  cleanest 
lavendered  linen  (of  all  luxuries  on  earth,  the  greatest) 
and  quickly  fell  asleep.     No  sound  disturbed  our  slumbers' 
Only  once  in  the  night,  opening  my  eyes  as  I  lay,  I  saw  the 
dark  branch<>s  of  trees  gliding  spectrally  past  the  window 
In  the  morning,  the  shock  of  the  boat  striking  the  pier  at 
Ghent  aroused  us.     By  repeating  the  words  -chemin  de 
fer-  accompanied  by  an  uncertain  gesture,  the  captain 
comprehended  that  we  wished  to  know  where  the  railroad 
station  was,  and  sent  a  boy  to  pilot  us.     There  the  name 
of  "Aix-la-Chapelle"  was  again  sufficient  for  our  tickets 
and  haggage. 

Our  journey  that  day  was  not  so  agreeable.  For 
economy's  sake,  we  took  third-class  places,  in  open  cars, 
which  only  furnished  standing-room.  Soon  after  passing 
Mechlin,  the  rain  began  to  fall  and  a  driving  storm  set  in" 
the  violence  of  which  was  doubled  by  the  motion  of  the 
train.    We  huddled  together  under  one  umbrella,  all  three 


wrapped  in  a  Mnckinaw  blanket,  and  endeavored 
the  beautiful  scenery  between  Liege  and  V 


i^i 


IM 


to  enjoy 
erviers.    But,  at 


f 


ji 


30 


AT   IIOMB   AND   ABROAD. 


last,  thoroughly  chilled  and  soaked,  the  romantic  element 
disappeared,  and  we  thought  only  of  reaching  fire  and 
shelter.  It  was  nearly  night  when  we  arrived  at  Aix-la- 
Chapelle.  As  soon  as  the  light  and  easy  rep-n'ations  pre- 
scribed on  crossing  the  Prussian  frontier  had  been  complied 
with,  we  took  an  omnibus  to  the  Rhine  Hotel.  (I  believe 
we  pointed  out  the  name  in  the  guide-book  to  the  driver.) 
Here  it  was  necessary  to  make  an  effort ;  we  were  wet  as 
drowned  rats,  and  wanted  to  dry  ourselves.  I  accordingly 
said  to  the  head  waiter  :    "  Un  chambre  de  feu !    Nous 

so'^mes "  wet,  I  would  have  added,  if  I  had  known  what 

the  Frenchmen  say  when  they  are  wet.     "  Vbus  etes .?" 

repeated  the  waiter,  pausing  for  the  key-word.  "  Oui^  nous 
sommes »  there  I  stuck  again,  hesitated,  and  then,  grow- 
ing desperate,  seized  his  hand,  and  placed  it  on  my  coat. 
"  Oh!  you  mean  you  are  wet,"  said  he,  in  very  good  English. 
"We  had  no  further  difficulty  during  the  remainder  of  our 
stay  in  Aix-la-Chapelle. 

The  next  day  we  took  passage  for  Cologne.  We  had 
now  entered  the  German  region,  and  what  little  French  I 
knew  was  almost  useless.  The  train  was  detained  for  some 
time  at  one  of  the  country  stations,  and  we  began  tp  feel 
the  want  of  dinner.  Noticing  one  of  the  passengers  eating 
a  piece  of  bread  and  cheese,  I  said  to  him,  "  What  is  that?'' 
at  the  same  time  pointing  to  the  articles.  The  words  were 
so  much  like  the  German  that  he  understood  me,  and 
answered,  "  JSrod  und  Kdse:'  By  repeating  this,  we  were 
soon  supplied  with  bread  and  cheese.  At  Cologne,  the 
word  "Bonn"  was  sufficient  to  guide  us  to  the  Bonn 
railway  station,  where  we  gave  our  baggage  in  charge  to  a 


FIE8T  DIFFICULTIES   WITH   FOEKIGN  TONGUES.  31 

porter-pointing  out  to  him  on  the  time-table,  the  train  by 
which  we  intended  to  leave.  This  lelt  us  free  to  spend  the 
afteraoon  in  wandering  about  Cologne. 

At  Bonn,  that  evening,  we  acquired  some  new  expe- 
riences.    Murray's  Handbook  recommends  the  "Golden 
Star"  Hotel  as  the  cheapest  on  the  Rhine;  and  thither  we 
accordingly  went.     It  turned  out,  nevertheless,  to  be  the 
most  stylkh  estabUshnent  of  the  kind  we  had  ever  patron- 
ized.   The  reader  must  bear  in  mind  that,  up  to  this  time, 
I  had  been  accustomed  only  to  the  simplest  country-life,' 
and  was  utterly  ignorant  of  the  ways  of  the  world,  even 
at  home.     When,  therefore,  I  entered  the  brilliantly-lighted 
dming-hall,  in  order  to  take  some  supper,  and  saw  three  or 
four  officers  seated  at  a  table-aU  the  other  tables  being 
vacant-I  supposed  that  theirs,  of  course,  was  the  table 
where  supper  was  served,  and,  without  more  ado,  seated 
myself  beside  them.    They  must  have  been  utterly  astound- 
ed at  this  proceeding ;    for  I  still  remember  tho  odd, 
amazed  expression  of  their  faces.    Really  the  Germans  are 
a  very  ill-mamiered  people,  thought  I;  and  sat  there,  com- 
placently enough,  until  a  servant  invited  me  to  take  a  seat 
elsewhere. 

We  had  ell  been  infected  by  the  temperance  revival, 
which,  set  on  foot  bv  the  Baltimore  Washingtonians,  had 
SNvept  over  the  United  States.  We  might  have  tasted 
wine  as  small  children,  but  its  flavor  had  been  wholly  for- 
gotten, and  we  looked  upon  the  beverage  as  a  milder  sort 
<.t  poison.  When,  therefore,  we  saw  every  man  with  his 
bottle  of  Rhenish,  we  were  inexpressibly  Khockod;  still 
more  so,  when  tho  servant  asked  us  (in  English) '  what 


I 


32 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


1 


! 


wine  we  should  take.  The  favorite  bcverige  at  home  then 
vsros — and  still  is,  in  the  West — coffee,  even  at  dinner ;  and 
accordingly  we  ordered  coff".  The  man  hesitated,  as  if 
he  had  not  rightly  understood ;  but,  on  the  order  being 
repeated,  brought  us  coffee,  as  if  for  brtiikfast  with  French 
roils.  He  could  scar'-.iy  believe  his  eyes,  Avhen  he  saw  us 
place  the  cnp"  beside  our  beefsteaks  and  potatoes.  "We 
tried  the  same  experiment  once  or  twice  afterw-ards,  but 
were  finally  driven  to  taste  the  dreaded  poison  of  the 
Rhine.  Finding,  after  a  fair  trial,  that  our  health  did  not 
suffer,  nor  our  understandings  become  confused,  we  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  we  had  been  a  little  hasty  in  pro- 
nouncing upon  the  nature  of  wine,  from  the  representations 
of  those  ,,ho  had  been  ruined  by  whisky. 

Our  next  day  on  the  Rhine  was  a  golden  one.  All  these 
little  embarrassments  were  forgotten,  when  we  saw  the 
Seven  Mountains  rising,  fair  and  green,  in  a  flood  of  sun 
shine — Avhen  we  passed  under  the  ramparts  of  Ehrenbreit- 
stein,  and  heard  the  bugle-notes  flung  back  from  the  rocks 
of  the  Loreley.  To  me  it  was  a  wonderful,  a  glorious  dream. 
I  have  tried,  since  then,  to  recall  the  magic  of  that  day ; 
but  in  vain.  I  miss  the  purple  tint  breathed  upon  the  hills 
— the  mystic  repose  of  the  sky — the  sweetness  of  the  air — 
the  marvellous  splendor  of  the  sunshine ;  or,  perhaps,  the 
missing  note,  which  alone  could  have  restored  the  harmony 
of  the  first  impression,  has  been  lost  by  me — the  ardent 
inspiration  of  youth,  the  light  that  is  once,  on  sea  and  land 
— once,  and  never  again  ! 

I  ]pf^.  mv  companions  at  Mayence,  intending  to  visit 
Frankfort,   before   proceeding  to  Heidelberg,  where  wo 


FIRST   DIFFICULTIES   WITH   FOnEIGN  TONGUES.  33 

designed  remaining  until  we  had  mastered  the  German 
language.     My  object  was  to  visit  Mr.  Richard  Willis,  who 
wrs  then  pursuing  his   musical  studies  in  Germany     I 
reached  Frankfort  in  an  hour,  and  at  once  started  in  search 
of  the  American  Consul.     After  inquiring  at  a  great  many 
shops  m  the  principal  streets,  I  at  last  found  a  man  who 
Hpoke  a  little  French,  and  who  informed  me  that  the  Con- 
sul resided  in  the  Bellevue.     (In  reality,  it  was  the  Schone 
Aussicht,  which  means  the  same  thing.)     I  think  I  must 
have  walked  all  over  the  city,  and  its  suburb  of  Sachsen- 
hausen,  three  times,  without  finding  a  Bellevue  street.     The 
thought  then  occurred  to  me,  to  select  the  streets  which 
really  commanded  fine  views,  and  confine  my  search  to 
them.    Proceeding  on  this  plan,  I  presently  discovered  the 
Consul's  house.     I  had  bought  some  biscuits,  at  j,  baker's, 
for  my  breakfast;  and,  not  knowing  how  else  to  dispose  of 
them,  had  put  them  Into  my  hat.    When  I  was  ushered 
into  the  consular  oflice,  I  placed  my  hat  carefully  on  a  table 
m  the  ante-room,  hoping  no  one  would  notice  its  contents. 
The   old  gentleman   who  then    represented    the  United 
States,  however,  persisted  in  accompanying  me  to  the  door 
-a  courtesy  I  would  willingly  have  dispensed  with-and, 
guided  by  my  own  nervous  consciousness,  made  directly 
for  the  hat,  and  looked  iftto  it.     'Tis  ever  thus,  from  child- 
hood's  hour:  -whatever  you  particularly  wish  to  conceal,  is 
sure  to  be  detected.     I  was  somewhat  consoled  by  the  re- 
flection that  Dr.  Franklin  walked  through  the  streets  with 
a  sheet  of  gingerbread  under  his  arm,  which  was  even 
worec  than  if  he  had  hidden  it  in  his  shovel-brun. 
With  this  experience,  my  special  embarrassments  ended. 


I! 


I 


u 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


Mr.  Willit^  deposited  me  safely  in  the  eihcagen  for  Heidel- 
berg, where  I  remained  quietly  until  I  knew  enough  Ger- 
man to  travel  with  ease  and  comfort.     Having  mastered 
one  language,  a  second  is  acquired  with  half  the  ditficulty ; 
and  I  have,  since  then,  had  no  par.  oular  trouble  in  picking 
up  enough  of  a  strange  tongue  to  express  simple  and  neces- 
sary wants.    The  smallest  stock  upon  which  you  can  con- 
veniently travel,  is //Uy  words;  which  a  man  of  ordinary 
memory  can  learn  in  two  or  three  hours.    Let  me  advise 
others,  however,  not  to  fall  into  the  common  mistake  of 
imagining  that  a  man  is  deaf,  because  he  cannot  understand 
youl  neither  cUp  your  words,  and  speak  a  sort  of  broken  or 
inverted  EngUsh,  in  the  hope  that  it  will  be  more  easily 
comprehended.    I  have  heard  of  an  American,  who  was 
looked  upon  as  on  impostor  in  Europe,  because  he  de- 
clared he  came  from  "'Mecca,"  which  he  thought  would 
be  better  understood  than  if  he  had  spoken  out,  like  a  sen- 
sible man,  syllable  by  syUable,  the  word— "  A-meb-i-ca.» 


|i      ; 


IV. 

A  YOUNG  AUTHOR'S  LIFE  IN  LONDON. 


I  REACHED  London  for  the  second  time  about  the  middle 
of  March,  1846,  after  a  dismal  walk  through  Normandy 
and  a  stormy  passage  across  the  Channel.    I  stood  upon 
London  Bridge,  in  the  raw  mist  and  the  falling  twUight 
with  a  franc  and  a  half  in  my  pocket,  and  deliberated  what 
I  should  do.     Weak  from  sea-sickness,  hungry,  chilled,  and 
without  a  single  acquaintance  in  the  great  city,  my  situation 
was  about  as  hopeless  as  it  is  possible  to  conceive.    Success- 
fal  authors  in  their  libraries,  seated  in  cushioned  chairs  and 
dipping  their  pens  into  silver  inkstands,  may  write  about 
money  with  a  beautiful  scorn,  and  chant  the  praise  of 
Poverty-the  "  good  goddess  of  Poverty,"  as  George  Sand 
making  50,000  francs  a  year,  enthusiastically  terms  her- 
l»"t  there  is  no  condition  in  which  the  Real  is  so  utterly  at 
variance  with  the  Ideal,  as  to  be  actually  out  of  money,  and 
hungry,  with  nothing  to  pawn  and  no  friend  to  borrow  from. 


i 


I 


I 


iHi! 


86 


AT   HOME   AND   ABKOAD. 


Have  you  ever  known  it,  my  friend  ?  Jf  not,  I  could 
wish  that  you  might  have  the  experience  for  twenty-four 
hours,  only  once  in  your  life. 

I  rememltered,  at  last,  that  during  my  first  visit  to  Lon- 
don, eighteen  months  previous,  I  had  lodged  a  few  nights 
at  a  chojvhouse  opposite  the  Aldgate  Church-yard.  The 
price  of  a  bed  was  one  shilling,  which  was  within  the  com- 
pass of  my  franc  and  a  half — and  rest  was  even  more  to  me 
than  food.  As  I  passed  through  the  crowd  towards  Cheap- 
side  and  thence  eastward  to  Aldgate,  the  lamps  were  lighted 
and  the  twilight  settled  into  a  drear,  rainy  night.  In  the 
lighted  shops  I  saw  joints  of  the  dark  crimson  beef  of  Old 
England,  hams,  fish,  heads  of  lettuce — everything  fresh, 
succulent,  and  suggestive  of  boimtiful  boards.  Men — the 
very  porters  and  street-sweepers,  even — were  going  home 
with  their  little  packages  of  tea,  shrimps,  and  penny  rolls. 
Thev  all  had  homes  to  go  to,  and  no  care  for  the  morrow : 
how  I  envied  them ! 

At  last  I  reached  the  end  of  Aldgate,  turned  up  the  alley 
beside  the  old  church-yard,  and  entered  the  chop-house. 
The  landlord  wa  a  broad,  pursy,  puffy  fellow,  and  his  wife 
a  tall,  keen,  aquiline,  and  determined  woman,  who  deserved 
a  better  fate.  She  was  intended  by  nature  for  the  presi- 
dency of  .1  Charitable  Association.  The  place  had  changed 
proprietors,  so  that  they  could  not  recognise  me,  as  I  had 
hoped.  However,  as  there  was  a  vacant  bed,  and  they  did 
not  manifest  any  special  mistrust,  I  detemiined  to  abide 
with  them,  and,  professing  gicat  fatigue,  was  conducted  to 
my  room  at  once.  It  was  a  bare  apartment  on  the  second 
story,  containing  a  miserable  bed,  an  old  spinnet,  >^ith 


mm 


A  TOUXG    AUTJ.OB'S  LITE  Kf  LONDON.  87 

every  key  broken  or  out  of  tune,  a  cracked  lookmg-glass 
and  two  chairs.     The  window  commanded  a  cheerful  view 
of  the  church-yard. 

In  the  morning,  I  took  a  sixpenny  breakfast,  and  offered 
a  franc-piece  in  payment.    The  landlord  refused  to  take  it 
whereupon  I  informed  him  that  my  funds  were  all  in  French 
coin  and  I  had  as  yet  had  no  opportunity  of  procuring  English 
This  seemed  to  satisfy  him;  so  I  went  forth  with  the  hope 
of  procuring  employment  as  a  printer.     But  all  my  efforts 
were  in  vain,  and  I  returned  at  night,  with  only  two-pence 
m  my  pocket,  after  I  had  paid  for  my  breakfast.     That 
night  I  did  not  sleep  much.     The  crisis  had  arrived,  and  if 
relief  did  not  come  the  next  day,  I  saw  nothing  but  starva- 
tion  or  downright  vagrancy  (the  idea  of  which  was  even 
worse)  in  store  for  me.     I  rose  early,  so  as  to  get  away 
from  the  house,  before  I  could  be  called  upon  to  p„ ,  for 
my  bed.    After  trying  various  printing-ofE.es,  always  with 
the  same  result,  I  bought  some  bread  with  my  two-pence, 
and,  by  a  singular  revulsion  of  feeUng,  became  perfectly 
happy  and  careless.    I  was  young  and  full  of  life,  and  had 
been  disheartened  as  long  as  my  temperament  would  per. 
mit.    Nature  resumed  her  rights,  and  I  could  not  have  been 
more  cheerful  had  my  pockets  been  fiUed  with  gold. 

This  buoyancy  of  spirits  was  like  a  presentiment  of  com- 
mg  good-luck.  In  the  conrse  of  the  afternoon,  I  found  an 
American  publisher,  who  gave  me  instant  relief,  in  the  loan 
of  a  sovereign ;  and  afterwards,  sufficient  employment  to 
defray  the  three  shil-.gs  a  day,  which  I  was  obliged  to  ex- 
pend. When  I  returned  to  the  chop-house  that  night,  I 
paid  for  my  lodgings  with  an  air,  I  fancy,  unnecessarily 


38 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


ostentatious;  but  not  without  reason — I  had  seventeen 
shilUngs  in  my  pocket !  Of  course,  I  was  obliged  to  re- 
main there — for  at  no  better  place  could  I  procure  a  bed  at 
the  same  price.  The  cLop-houso  was  the  resort  of  actors 
from  some  low  theatre  in  Whitechapel,  hackmen,  sailors 
occasionally,  and  pawnbrokers'  clerks.  I  kept  aloof  from 
them,  taking  my  chop  in  a  solitary  stall,  and  reading  old 
numbers  of  Jhe  Times  or  a  greasy  copy  of  the  Family 
ITerald,  when  it  was  too  cold  to  remain  in  my  room. 

Tha  people  never  interfered  with  me  in  any  way.  They 
respected  my  silence  and  reserve ;  so  I  fared  better  than 
might  have  been  expected.  During  the  whole  six  weeks 
of  my  stay,  I  was  never  asked  a  personal  question.  Could 
the  same  thing  happen  in  the  United  States  ?  Sometimes, 
in  the  evenings,  the  company  became  boisterous  and  dis- 
agreeable, and  I  would  be  awakened,  late  at  night,  by 
angry  cries  and  the  sound  of  overthrown  chairs  and  tables. 
The  landlord's  eyes,  next  morning,  would  then  be  bigger 
than  usual — frequently  the  landlady's,  ilso.  The  little 
servant-girl,  at  such  times,  would  whisper  to  me,  as  she 
brought  my  boots:  "O  goody!  but  didn't  master  and 
missus  fight  last  night!"  All  the  criminal  trials,  even 
those  of  a  nature  not  to  be  mentiored  iu  mixed  society, 
were  freely  discussed  there.  In  a  word,  my  associations 
were  not  of  the  most  respectable  character — ^I  was  reluc- 
tantly forced  to  this  conclusion.  But  how  could  it  be 
helped  ?  When  a  man  has  but  threo  shiiungs  a  day,  ho 
cannot  keep  four-shilling  society,  without  cheating  some- 
body. I  lodged  in  a  vulgar  hole,  it  is  true ;  but  then,  I 
paid  my  reckoning. 


A  YOUNO  AUTIIOU'8   UFS  IN  LONDOX.  89 

My  only  riches,  at  this  time,  consisted  of  a  number  of 
manuscript  poems,  writ^^n  at  Florence,  during  the  previous 
autumn.  They  possessed  great  merit,  in  my  eyes  and  I 
did  not  see  how  they  could  fail  to  make  the  same  .mpres- 
sion  upon  others.  One  of  the  first  things  I  did,  therefore, 
was  to  send  three  or  four  to  each  of  ^ho  popular  magazine! 
-Amsu^orih\  BentUy^s,  and  i^a^er'^-expecting  to  re- 
ceive  1  guinea  apiece,  at  least,  fo.  them.  But  day  after 
day  passed  away,  and  the  only  answer  which  came,  was 
from  the  quarter  where  I  had  least  expected-from  Mr. 
Harrison  Ainsworth,  the  author  of  "Jack  Sheppard  »  and 
"Old  St.  Paul's."  The  following  is  his  letter,  in  reply  to 
one  which  I  had  written  in  the  hour  of  my  greatest  need : 

"Kensal  Manor  House,  Harrow  Road, 
"March  27,  1846. 

"Sm:  I  return  your  poems  with  reluctance,  for  I  think  very  highly  of 
them.  They  exhibit  great  fresh-ess  and  vigou-  and  are  certainly  above 
the  average  of  magazine  poetry.  But,  a?  you  conjecture,  I  am  overstocked 
with  both  prose  and  verse-and  have  more  of  the  latter  on  hand  than  I 
can  use  in  any  reasonable  time. 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  be  of  service  to  you ;  and  I  may.  perhaps,  be  able 
to  help  you  to  some  employment,  through  my  printer,  Mr.  Cha-Ies  Whiting 
Beaufort  House,  Strand.  You  can  call  upon  hb  overseer,  Mr.  Gusyn,  and 
show  him  this  note;  and  if  they  have  any  vacancy,  and  you  can  offer 
sufficient  credentials  of  your  respectability  and  fitness,  I  am  pretty  sure 
my  recommendation  wiU  avail  Under  any  circumstances,  when  you 
have  seen  Mr.  Gusj-n,  and  I  hear  from  him,  I  would  send  you  some 
trifling  assistance. 

"W.  Harrison  Ainsworth."* 
This  note,  fnendly,  yet  guarded  (as  was  proper  under 
the  circumstances),  reached  me  after  I  had  succeeded  in 


I'lai! 


40 


AT   HOME   AXD    ADKOAD. 


obtaining  employment  with  Mr.  Putnam,  and  I  never  ma<le 
use  of  it.  I  may  add  that  the  assistance  Mr.  Ahisworth 
offered  had  not  been  solicited  in  my  letter,  and  therefore, 
•while  it  illustrated  his  kindness,  was  not  humiliating  to 
myself.  A  polite  notice  of  rejection,  from  Fraser'a  Maga- 
zine^ reached  me  after  my  return  to  America.  I  never 
offered  the  same  poems  to  aay  other  periodical  afterwards, 
and  have  every  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  my  forbearance. 

This,  however,  was  not  the  only  attempt  I  made  to 
achieve  some  literary  success  in  London,  I  had  a  letter  to 
Mr.  Murray,  the  publisher,  from  Mrs.  TroUope,  whose 
acquaintance  I  had  made  in  Florence.  That  lady — whose 
famous  bock  on  America  is  no  gaugr  of  her  cordiality 
towards  Americans — received  and  encouraged  me,  in  a 
manner  which  must  always  command  my  gratitude.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  her  speculations  in  Cincinnati 
were  unsnccesstul,  and  that  she  left  the  United  States 
chagrined  and  embittered  at  her  heavy  los?  '.  Her  1 
— which,  spiteful  and  caricr.turesque  as  it  certainly  was, 
did  us  no  real  harm — was  written  under  the  first  sting  of 
her  failure,  and  she  regretted  it  sincerely,  in  later  years. 
We  can  now  afford  to  be  friendly  again  towards  a  witty, 
cheerful,  and  really  warm-hearted  woman — who  having 
forgotten  what  she  lost,  remembers  only  what  she  admired 
among  us. 

I  had  in  my  knapsack  a  manuscript  poem  of  some  twelve 
hundred  lines,  called  "  The  Liberated  Titan  " — the  icea  of 
which  I  fancied  to  be  something  entirely  new  in  literature. 
Perhaps  it  was.  I  did  not  doubt,  for  a  moment,  that  nny  Lon- 
don publisher  would  gladly  accept  it,  and  I  imagined  that  its 


A  YOUXO  AUTHOR'S  LIFE  IX  LONDON. 


41 


appearance  would  create  not  a  little  sensation.    Mr.  Murray 
gave  the  poem  to  his  literary  adviser,  who  kept  It  about  a 
month,  and  then  returned  it,  with  a  poUte  message.     I  was 
advised  to  try  Moxon ,  but,  by  this  time,  I  had  sobered 
do\vn  considerably,  and  did  not  m  ish  to  risk  a  second  rejec 
tion.     I  therefore  solaced  myself  by  reading  the  immortal 
p6em  at  night,  in  my  bare  chamber,  looking  occasionally 
down  into  the  graveyard,  and  thinking  of  mute,  inglorious 
Miltons.    The  curious  reader  may  ask  how  I  escaped  the 
catastrophe  of  publishing  the  poem,  at  last.    That  is  a 
piece  of  good  fort^une  for  which  I  am  indebted  .o  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Bushnell,  of  Hartford.     We  were  fellow-passengers  on 
board  the  same  ship  to  America,  a  few  weeks  later,  and  I 
had  sufficient  confidence  in  his  taste  to  show  him  the  poem. 
His  verdict  was  charitable ;  but  he  asserted  that  no  poem 
of  that  '-ngth  si  ,,uld  be  given  to  the  worid  before  it  had 
received  the  most  thorough  study  and  finish— and  exacted 
from  me  a  promise  not  to  publish  it  within  a  year.    At 
the  end  of  that  time,  I  renewed  the  promise  to  m.  *elf  for  a 
thousanu  years 

Mr.  Murray  received  me  with  great  kindness,  and  I  more 
than  once  left  my  d-n  at  Aldgate  to  dine  at  his  storied 
residence  in  Albemarie  street.    At  this  time,  I  wore  broad 
collars,  turned  down— such  as  I  had  been  accustomed  to 
wear  at  home- with  flowing,  unEnglish  locks,  and  I  sus- 
pect the  flunkeys  were  puzzled  what  to  make  of  me.    I 
remember  distinctly  having  purchased  a  pair  of  Beriin 
gloves,  which  were  the  cheapest.    They  were  exactly  of 
the  kind  worn  by  footmcn-but  I  was  entiiely  innocent  of 
that  fact.    Walking  one  day  in  Hyde  Park,  with  a  gentle- 


lli 


:      i 


42 


AT   HOME   AND   ABHOAP. 


man  to  whom  1  had  bet.  introduced,  I  put  them  on ;  ?nd 
it  never  occurred  to  me,  until  years  afterwards,  why  he 
looked  at  them  so  curiously,  and  made  such  haste  to  get 
into  a  less-frequented  thorouglifare. 

Mr.  3Iurray  showed  to  Lockhart,  who  was  then  editor 
of  the  Quarterly  lieview,  a  poem  which  I  had  written  on 
Powers'  statue  of  "  Eve,"  and  that  distinguished  gentlerajin 
sent  me  an  invitation  to  breakfast  with  him  a  few  days 
afterv.-ards.  I  called  for  Murray  and  walked  with  him  to 
Lockhart's  residence,  on  Regent's  Park.  We  found  there 
P  rnard  Barton,  the  old  Quaker  poet,  and  a  gentle- 
man from  Edinburgh.  Lockhart  received  me  with  great 
cordiality,  mingled  with  a  stately  condescension.  He  was 
then  not  more  than  fifty  years  old,  and  struck  me  as  being 
the  handsomest  Englishman  I  had  ever  seen.  He  Avas  tall 
and  well-proportioned,  with  a  graceful,  lordly  delibcrateness 
in  his  movements ;  a  large,  symmetrical  head  ;  broad  brow ; 
deep,  mellow  eyes ;  splendidly  cut  nose,  and  a  mouth  dis- 
proportionately small.  His  voice  was  remarkably  rich  and 
full.  I  was  a  little  overawed  by  his  presence,  and  he  no 
doubt  remarked  it  and  was  not  displeased  thereat. 

Bernard  Barton,  however,  was  a  man  towards  whom  I 
felt  instantly  attracted.  He  had  a  little,  round,  gray  head, 
'nerry  gray  eyes,  and  cheeks  as  ruddy  as  a  winter  apple. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  very  plain  black  suit,  with  knee- 
breeches  and  stockings,  and  a  white  cravat.  Lamb,  Hazlitt, 
and  his  other  friends  had  passed  away,  and  he  had  almost 
outlived  his  reputation— yet  was  as  happy  and  satisfied  as  if 
he  had  just  been  made  poct-laurcate.  I  afterwards  became 
one  of  his  correspondents,  and  received  several  delightful 


J  -4^^^^  -» 


A  YOUNG  AUTHOR'S  UFE  IX  LONDON. 


43 


letters  from  the  good  Kttle  man.  Lockhart's  daughter— 
the  daughter  of  Sophia  Scott— presided  at  the  breakfast- 
table.  She  was  a  lovely  girl  of  seventeen,  just  entering 
society,  and  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to  her  mother,  whose 
portrait  I  saw  in  the  library.  She  was  rather  tall  and 
slender,  exquisitely  fair,  yet  with  dark  Highland  hair  and 
eyes— a  frail,  delicate  character  of  beauty,  which  even  then 
foretold  her  early  death.  Two  years  afterwards  she  mar- 
ried  Mr.  Hope,  and  one  of  her  children  is  now  the  only 
descendant  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

The  principal  topic  of  conversation  at  breakfast  was  the 
battle  of  Ferozeshah,  the  news  of  which  had  just  arrived. 
Lockhart  seemed  quite  excited  by  it,  and  related  several 
incidents  with  great  animation.     We  afterwards  spent  an 
hour  in  the  library,  where  I  saw  the  fifty  volumes  of  Scott's 
correspondence,  with  aU  the  great  authors  of  the  world,  of 
his  time.    Lockhart  read  with  a  ringing,  trumpet-hke  vo'ice, 
from  the  origmal  manuscript,  the  first  draft  of  Campbell'I 
"  Battle  of  the  Baltic."    He  also  related  to  us  many  par- 
ticulars of  the  last  days  of  Southey.     I  felt  aroused  and 
inspired  by  the  sight  of  such  reUcs  and  the  company  of  such 
men,  and  when  I  returned  to  the  chop-house  that  nigh.,  to 
pore  over  my  own  despised  poems,  it  was  with  a  savage 
bitterness  of  spirit  which  I  had  never  before  felt.     My  day's 
walk  had  been  from  Olympus  to  Hades  and  the  banks  of 
Lethe's  river. 

Lockhart's  kindness  emboldened  me  to  make  one  more 
trial.  I  had  still  another  poem— a  story  in  four  cantos, 
entitled  "The  Troubadour  of  Provence "-writtoi.  in  a 
peculiar  stanza    uhich  I  had  invented.     I  copied  a  few 


l-f! 


44 


AT   HOME   AXD   ABROAD. 


I 

I, 


pages  and  sent  it  to  him,  desiring  his  opinion  of  the  form 
of  versification— not  without  a  secret  hope  that  he  might 
be  sufficiently  impressed  with  the  poem,  to  assist  mo  in 
finding  a  publisher.    His  answer  was  as  follows  : 

"  Dear  Sir  :  No  form  of  stanza  can  hiterfero  seriously  witli  the  effect  of 
good  poetry;  but  I  do  not  tliink  the  labor  implied  in  great  complication 
of  stanza  is  ever  likely  to  be  repaid.  As,  however,  your  poem  is  done,  I 
can  only  bid  you  God-speed ;  and  I  am  sure  if  it  be,  as  a  whole,  as  good 
as  the  Eve,  it  will  have  a  most  encouraging  reception  here  as  well  as  in 
America.  Bernard  Barton  lives  at  Woodbridge,  in  Suffolk;  and  I  havo 
no  doubt  ho  will  bo  gratified  in  hearing  from  you. 

"  Yours,  very  truly, 

«'  Rkoext's  Park,  April  7,  1846.  ^^  ^^  ^«^^"^«^-" 

This  letter,  although  kind  and  considerate,  was  never- 
theless  a   sufficient   hint   to   nv.      "The  Troubadour   of 
Provence"  was  finally  laid  away  on  the  same  shelf  with 
"  The  Liberated  Titan,"  and  various  other  aspiring  produc- 
tions of  youth.     O,  the  dreams  we  dream  !     O,  the  poems 
we  write !     Kind  are  the  hands  which  hold  us  back  from 
rushing  into  print- tender  the  words  which  pronounce 
such   harsh  judgment   on  our  works!     For  a  year,  we 
proudly  curse  the  stupidity  of  our  advisers— for  ever  after- 
wards we  bless  them  as  our  benefactors.     Reader,  that 
knowest,  peradventure,  how  many  bad  poems  I  have  pub- 
lished, little  dreamest  thou  how  many  more  worse  ones  a  kind 
fate  lias  saved  me  from  ottering  thee  !     I  keep  them  still,  as 
a  wholesome  humilir.'on  ;  but  they  serve  a  double  purpose. 
They  humiliate  when  exalted,  but  they  encourage  when 
depressed.    Therefore  they  have  not  been  written  in  vain  : 
but,  thank  Heaven,  they  have  onl>/  been  written  I 


.  •  V 


A   YOUNG   AUTHOR'S   LIFE   IN   LONDON. 


45 


These  visits,  together  with  occasional  excursions  to  Chel- 
sea—where, at  the  house  cf  a  brother  of  Mrs.  TroHope,  I 
met  with  authors  and  artists— introduced  a  new  element 
into  my  London  life.  The  choi>house,  by  force  of  contrast, 
bociune  insufferable,  yet  I  could  not  afford  more  expensive 
lodgings.  The  people  were  accustomed  to  my  reserve,  and 
respected  it :  at  another  place  they  might  be  more  curious. 
And  so  I  remained,  to  hear  the  cases  of  crim.  con.  racily 
discussed,  to  see  continual  black  eyes  and  swollen  noses, 
and  be  greeted  with  the  little  servant's  whisi)ered  informa- 
tion :  "  Goody !  but  didn't  they  go  it !"  Besides,  among 
my  acquaintances,  I  boldly  avowed  where  my  nightly 
quarters  were,  and  was  gratified  to  find  that  it  m.ido  no 
difference  in  their  demeanor  towards  me.  In  London,  a 
man's  character  is  not  so  stiictly  measured  by  his  place  of 
residence  as  it  is  in  New  York. 

For  six  weeks  I  continued  to  earn,  through  Mr.  Putnam's 
kijidneos,  sufficient  to  defray  the  expenses  of  living.  By 
this  time  April  was  well  advanced,  a  remittance  arrived  to 
pay  my  passage  home,  and  my  comi)anions  came  on  from 
Paris  to  join  me.  One  by  one,  all  my  hopes  of  literary 
success  had  disappeared,  and  I  speedily  forgot  them  in  the 
joy  of  returning  to  America.  Yet  I  doubt  whether  any 
fragment  of  my  life,  of  equal  length,  hris  done  me  equal 
service.  I  have  seen  London  several  times  since  then,  have 
founc  i)ublishers  kinder,  and  have  associated  with  authors, 
without  blushing  for  my  place  of  abode  :  yet  I  never  visit 
the  great  city  without  strolling  down  Aldgate,  to  look  upon 
the  windows  of  the  chop-house  and  the  graveyard  below, 
m  which  lie  buried  tht  ambitious  dreams  of  my  youth. 


i  ;l 


-I 


III 


V. 


THE   ATLANTIC. 


As  far  as  the  novelty  of  the  thing  is  concerned,  one  might 
as  well  write  an  account  of  a  trip  from  Canal  street  to 
Coney  Island,  as  of  a  voyage  across  the  Atlantic.     The 
log-books  of  all  manner  of  tourists  have  made  everybody 
familiar  with  the  course  of  incidents  from  pier  to  pier :  the 
disappearance  of  one's  native  shore  and  the  coming-on  of 
sea-sickness— touching   emotion   and   deadly  nausea— por- 
poises and  the  Gulf  Stream— fogs  on  the  Newfoundland 
Banks— perhaps  a  whale  or  a  vessel  within  hail,  and  then  a 
great  blank  of  blue  water,  over  which  the  voyager's  pen 
glides  with  scarce  a  word  of  record,  till  old  Mizen  Head  or 
Cape  Clear  comes  out  of  the  mist  and  inspires  him  with  a 
fresh  gush  of  romantic  sentiment.    It  is  not  so  common, 
however,  for  travellers  to  enjoy  the  trip,  unless  in  antici- 
pation or  re-nemhrancc.     For  my  part,  after  considerable 
experience  of  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans,  th.  Mediter- 


THE   ATLANTIC. 


47 


ranean,  Caribbean,  and  Gulf  of  Mexico,  I  never  fully  knew 
tlie  pleasures  of  sea-life,  nor  appreciated  the  endless  variety 
and  beauty  of  searscenery,  until  I  left  home,  worn  in  body  and 
overworked  in  brain,  to  seek  rest  and  refreshment  in  travel. 
The  spirit  of  Work  infects  our  atmosi)hore :  we  cannot 
escape  the  malady.     Our  souls  are  pitted  and  scarred  with 
it,  and  there  is  no  vaccination  whereby  we  >  ja  avoid  the 
disease.    If  you  once  i)lunge  into  the  stream,  you  must 
strike  out  with  the  boldest,  while  breath  and  nerve  remain. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  rest  inside  of  Sandy  Hook,  and  I 
felt  no  relaxation  of  the  unnatural  tension,  until  the  Gulf 
Stream  rolled  its  tropical   opiate  between   me   and  the 
maternal  shores.     Our  country  gives  us  everything,  but 
she  exacts  everything  from  us  in  return.     What  if  we  play 
truant  now  and  then  ?   Avhat  if  we  fly  from  the  never- 
ending  task,  to  dream  a  Summer  day  in  the  quiet  air  of 
Europe,  or  the  lazy  languor  of  the  East  ?     We  leave  our 
household  gods  to  await  our  return,  and  we  pray  that  the 
urn  which  is  to  hold  our  ashes  may  be  placed  beside  them. 
It  was  near  the  close  of  August  when  I  sailed.     There 
was  not  a  ripple  on  the  glassy  water,  nor  a  cloud  in  the 
sky,  and  the  Atlantic's  sentinels  slept  at  the  gates  of  the 
bay,  as  we  passed  them  at  night-fall.    For  three  or  four 
days  we  sailed  on  a  tropic  soa.     The  sun  came  up  flaming 
over  the  sharp  rim  of  the  horizon,  wheeled  around  his 
course,  and  sank  broad  and  clear  in  our  wake.     Our  great 
ship  rocked  gently  to  the  lazy  pulsations  of  the  ocean's 
heart— a  lulling,  not  a  disturliing  motion — and  we  jour- 
neyed in  a  serene  and  perfect  repose.     "  Oh,  Kest  to  Aveary 
hearts  thou  are  most  dear,"  sang  a  spirit  shut  out  from 


48 


AT   U0H2   AND   ABROAD. 


Paradise  ;  but  there  can  be  no  deeper  rest  than  that  which 
descends  alike  on  heart,  brain,  and  Umbs.  One  must  have 
whirled  for  a  year  or  two  in  the  very  vortex  of  our  Ame- 
rican life,  to  taste  the  repose  of  the  ocean  in  its  refreshing 
fulness : 

"  Duty  and  Care  fado  far  away ; 

What  Toil  may  be  we  cannot  gueaa : 
As  a  ship  anchored  in  a  bay, 
As  a  cloud  at  summer  noon  astray, 
As  water-blooms  on  a  breezeless  day — 
So  the  heart  sleeps, 
In  thy  calm  deeps, 
And  (|reams,  Forgetfulnesa  1" 

With  all  the  monotony  of  its  calm,  the  tranquil  expanse 
of  the  Ocean  is  infinitely  suggestive.  When  the  land  has 
disappeared,  your  vessel  is  a  planet  wheeling  its  way 
through  blue  ether.  But  it  is  a  planet  of  which  you  are 
the  creator,  and  at  your  will  its  orbit  may  touch  the  shores 
of  many  distant  regions,  passing  through  zones  of  heat  and 
cold,  of  light  and  darkness.  During  those  Summer  days, 
in  the  Gulf  Stream,  it  seemed  to  need  but  a  swerve  of  the 
prow  to  bring  all  the  lands  of  the  Old  and  New  Continents 
with  our  reach.  Cross  the  distant  ridge  of  the  horizon, 
glide  down  the  watery  slope  beyond,  and  you  touch  the 
Pillars  of  Hercules;  yonder  lies  Teneriffe  and  there  the 
jungles  of  Senegambia;  here  on  our  right,  under  the  noon- 
day sun,  are  the  palms  of  Ilayti,  the  perpetual  verdure  of 
the  Antilles.  When  the  fogs  of  Newfoundland  lift  like  an 
arch,  and  a  keen  northwester  comes  straight  down  from 
Labrador,  look  to  the  north,  and  you  will  hear  in  fancy  the 


m 


THE   ATLANTIC. 


49 


hollow  booming  of  the  surf  m  Iceland.c  fjords  and  caverns. 
At  least,  the  sound  came  to  my  ear  as  I  was  pacing  the  deck 
with  Mungo  Park,  and  listening  to  his  descriptions  of  life 
in  the  high  Arctic  region,  under  the  savage  shores  of 
Boothia,  and  among  the  ice-fields  of  Prince  Regent's  Inlet. 
It  was  not  the  ghost  of  the  African  traveller  that  told  me 
these  things,  but  his  near  relative,  the  worthy  Surgeon  of 
the  steamship. 

One  must  cross  the  Atlantic  more  than  once,  before  his 
mind  can  take  in  a  satisfactory  idea  of  its  immensity.     On 
ray  first  voyage  I  could  not  by  any  possibility  imagine  my-- 
self  more  than  fifty  miles  from  shore.    The  ship  went  on 
from  day  to  day,  but  for  all  that,  there  was  land  just  behind 
the  horizon.     Even  when  the  sight  of  the  Irish  Coast  gave 
me  a  vivid  sense  of  distance  from  home,  the  impression  wag 
one  of  time,  not  of  space.    All  the  Atlantic  was  embraced 
in  one  horizon,  sometimes  calm,  sometimes  agitated,  but 
always  the  same  sphere  of  sky  and  water.    Now  it  is  a 
grand  and  beautiful  expanse,  over  which  I  cannot  leap  in 
thought  so  readily.    I  must  pass  great  tracts  of  smooth  and 
gently  undulating  water;  dark,  wintry  wastes  flecked  with 
wreaths  of  snow;  fogs  that  take  away  all  sense  of  place 
and  time;  and  myriads  of  rolling  hiUs,  that  flash  and  foam 
and  sparkle  as  they  lift  the  vessel,  as  on  the  boss  of  a  vast 
shield,  till  I  can  look  over  the  blue  convex  to  its  outer 
edge.    Tlien  the  alternations  of  light  and  darkness,  each 
hc.ghtenea  by  the  sea,  which,  spouse  of  the  sky,  copies  its 
lightest  change;  the  sunsets,  transmuting  both  water  and 
ai'-;  the  bright  paths  trodden  by  the  moon-paths  which 
do  not  cease  at  the  horizon,  but  project  forward  beyond 

8 


J 


50 


AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 


IB 


I  I 
1 


the  earth,  into   the  mystcriorts   depths  of  the  heavens. 
Whither  do  they  lead  ? 

At  sea  you  look  on  the  life  from  which  you  have  emerged, 
as  one  looks  from  a  mountain  top  on  his  native  town. 
It  is  astoniHhing  how  fast  your  prejudices  relax  after  the 
land  has  sunk — how  the  great  insignificances  in  wluch  you 
have  been  involved,  disapi)ear,  as  if  they  had  never  been, 
and  every  interest  of  real  value  starts  into  sudden  distinct- 
ness. If  the  brain  could  -work  in  such  a  whirl  as  it  must 
bear  during  a  heavy  sea,  there  would  be  no  such  place  on 
shore  for  the  historian  and  the  philosopher.  But  the 
stomach,  unfortunately,  is  your  petted  organ;  you  must 
give  it  your  first  care.  Your  mental  enjoyment  must  be 
almost  entirely  of  a  sensuous  stamp.  You  take  in,  without 
stint,  the  glory  of  the  sea,  lose  yourself  in  delicious  reverie, 
start  a  thousand  tracks  of  thought  which  might  lead  to 
better  and  grander  truths  than  you  have  yet  attained ;  but 
you  cannot  follow  them.  The  spirit  is  willing,  but  the  flesh 
is  too  weak. 

With  such  enjoyments  >.3  these,  and  that  sense  of  rest, 
•which  was  the  sedative  I  most  needed,  two  weeks  passed 
by  like  two  days.  There  was  scarce  an  apology  for  sea- 
sickness on  board,  and  not  a  word  o.  complaint  on  account 
of  head-winds  and  rolling  seas.  Finally,  as  we  were  sailing 
on  a  cloudless  afternoon,  some  keen  eyes  among  us  discerned 
round  mountain-heads  and  rocky  islands  in  the  air,  above 
the  horizon.  1  half  expected  to  see  them  melt  back  again 
into  the  vapor,  but  they  stood  fast  and  grew  clear  in  outline, 
and  point  came  out  behind  point  as  we  advanced,  till  we  ran 
under  Fastnet  Rock  in  the  moonlight,  and  turned  the  cor- 
ner of  Cape  Clear. 


VI 


RAMBLES  IN  WARWICKSHIRE. 


[8EPTEMBEE,    1S61.] 


Few  Americans  leave  Liverpool  without  visiting  Chester. 
As  the  only  walled  city  in  England,  datmg  its  foundation 
from  the  Roman  invasion,  it  is  certainly  a  place  of  interest, 
but  neither  so  venerable  nor  so  peculiar  in  its  appearance 
as  I  had  imagined.     I  must  own,  however,  that  the  old 
towns  of  the   Continent  were  constantly  in  my  memory 
during  the  two  or  three  hours  I  devoted  to  its  steep  streets 
and  winding  walls.    The  only  things  on  which  I  looked  with 
real  interest  were  the   church  founded  by  Ethelred  the 
Saxon,  and  the  crumblmg  watch-tower  from  whose  top 
Charles  I.  Tvatched  the  fortunes  of  the  battle  on  Rowton 
Moor.    The  walk  around  the  ramparts  was  charming.     The 
warm,  silvery  haze  of  an  English  autumn  filled  the  air, 
veiHng  the  more  distant  of  the  Welsh  moimtains,  but  soften- 


52 


AT    HOME   AND    ABKOAD. 


\     'i 


ing  the  graceful  outlines  of  the  nearer  hills  and  touching 
with  the  gentlest  play  of  light  and  shadow  the  Valley  of 
the  Dee,  over  whose  waters  we  hung,  while  turning  the 
sharp  angles  of  the  bastions  on  the  southern  side. 

I  took  the  afternoon  train  to  Shrewsbury.  The  road 
passes  into  Wales  soon  after  leaving  Chester,  aiid  for  many 
miles  follows  the  hills  which  inclose  the  Allen,  a  tributary 
of  the  Dee.  The  country  is  Hilly,  but  so  varied  in  its  fea- 
tures, so  picturesque  in  the  disposition  of  height  a  1  valley, 
stream  and  wood,  so  trim  by  nature  and  so  luxuriant  by 
culture,  that  I  was  ready  to  regard  it  as  a  specimen  of  land- 
scape gardening  on  a  magnificent  scale.  Not  a  dead  bough 
encumbered  the  trees ;  not  a  patch  of  bare  soil  showed  the 
earth's  leanness.  The  meadows  were  smooth  enough  for  a 
fairy's  foot ;  the  streams  as  tranquil  and  pellucid,  as  if  only 

fit 

"  to  roll  ashore 

The  beryl  and  the  golden  ore ;" 

and  the  horses  and  cows  in  the  pasture-fields  were  appa- 
rently newly  washed  and  curried.  To  keep  up  the  impres- 
sion, at  the  Wrexham  station  we  found  a  crowd  of  Welsh 
youths  and  maidens  in  their  holiday  dresses,  as  the  great 
fair  had  just  commenced.  At  the  next  station  beyond,  we 
passed  an  excursion  train  from  Shrewsbury,  a  mile  of  cars, 
mostly  open,  and  crammed  with  delighted  c^iildren,  to  whom 
we  all  waved  our  handkerchiefs  in  return  for  their  shouts. 

The  sun  dipped  his  crimson  disc  behind  the  mountains, 
as  we  looked  into  the  rt.  vned  Vale  of  Llangollen,  in  pass- 
ing— a  stately  valley,  broad  at  first  and  rich  with  woods,  but 
narrowing  in  the  distance  and  lost  between  the  interlocking 


KAMBLES   IX   WABWICKSHTBE. 


58 


bases  of  the  liills.    Then  twilight  came  on ;  the  chimney  of 
a  furnace  flashed  here  and  tliere ;  wliite  mist  gathered  along 
the  streams,  growing  thicker  as  we  reached  the  Severn,  till 
the  chimes  of  "  Shrewsbury  clock"  rang  from  some  invisible 
station  in  the  air.    I  had  a  foggy  and  ghostly  sort  uf  ram- 
ble in  the  streets,  getting  lost  in  all  kinds  of  dark  windings 
up  and  down  the  hill  on  which  the  town  is  built;  so,  think- 
ing it  a  pity  to  spoil  such  an  appropriate  impression  of  the 
old  place,  I  left  for  Birmingham  in  the  morning.     Had  it 
not  been  for  a  German  pedestrian,  who   arrived  at  the 
"  George  Fox"  just  before  I  left,  I  might  have  visited  the 
town,  so  fixr  as  my  recollection  of  it  is  concerned,  in  the 
time  of  liiehard  III. 

The  face  of  the  country  became  more  monotonous  and 
the  soil  poorer,  as  we  approached  Birmingham.  From 
Wolverhampton,  a  large  manufacturing  to%vii,  to  the  'atter 
place,  a  distance  often  or  twelve  miles,  we  passed  an  imbro- 
ken  range  of  furnaces,  forges  and  other  estabUshments  for 
the  manufacture  of  iron.  Scores  of  tall  chimneys  belched 
forth  volumes  of  red  flame  and  black  smoke,  like  so  many 
flues  piercing  down  to  the  central  tires.  Whether  from  this 
cause  or  not,  I  will  not  venture  to  say,  but  the  sky,  which 
was  mild  and  clear,  after  leaving  the  fogs  of  the  Severn,  be- 
came dark  and  lowering,  and  drops  of  rain  fell  at  times  on 
passing  through  this  district.  Beyond  Birmingham,  where 
Agriculture  gets  the  npper  hand,  we  found  the  sunshine 


agam. 


The  appearance  of  Birmingham  from  the  railroad  viaduct 
is  most  uninviting.  The  only  relief  to  the  view  of  number- 
less blocks  of  dull  red  houses,  roofed  with  red  tiles,  is  afforded 


I 


.;» 


t      TtJIl 


'm:Pfimm-f: 


w 


64 


AT  nOME  AND   ARUOAO. 


i 


i  i 


by  two  or  three  spires  and  a  multitado  of  Airnacc-chiin- 
neys  in  the  distMncc.  I  lull  the  Shro[)8hu'o  train  :it  tlie  sta- 
tion, took  another  for  Kenilworth,  and  in  lefs  than  an  hour 
saw  tlie  "three  tall  spires"  of  Coventry,  that  ancient  and 
beautiful  city,  where,  as  Leigh  Hunt  says,  "the  boldest 
naked  deed  was  clothed  with  sainlliost  beauty."  I  saw 
two  pictures  as  I  p  .^sed :  one,  the  noble  GoUiva,  trenihling 
with  thanie,  yet  upborne  by  her  holy  purpose,  as  her  palfrey 
clattered  through  the  hushed  streets:  the  other,  an  idle 
poet,  lounging  with  grooms  and  porters  on  the  bridge,  and 
weaving  in  liis  brain  the  fit  consecration  of  that  deed. 

The  branch  road  for  Leamington  here  left  tlie  groat  high- 
way to  London.  It  is  a  kind  of  railway-lane — a  single  track, 
winding  by  country  ways,  betweon  quiet  hedges,  and  with 
the  grass  growing  up  to  the  edges  of  the  rails.  Every 
spare  shred  and  corner  of  ground  clipi)cd  from  the  fields,  is 
a  little  garden-plot,  gay  with  flowers,  and  so,  with  less  re- 
gret than  the  sentimental  reader  would  suppose,  I  first  saw 
the  heavy  pile  of  ruined  Kenilworth  from  the  windows  of 
a  railroad  car.  The  castle  is  more  than  a  mile  distant  from 
the  station,  bi.i  an  omnibus  was  in  waititig,  for  passengers. 
IVIy  companion  and  I,  however,  prefc  ?d  a  foot-path 
across  the  fields,  leading  to  a  gate  in  a  wall  which  formed 
the  outer  defence  of  the  j)lace.  As  it  happened  we  struck 
on  the  tilting-ground,  the  grce'>  level  of  which  we  follov  cd 
to  M  "rtimer's  Tower,  entcrinc:  the  Castle  by  the  gate  se- 
lected for  the  reception  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  Passing  the 
ancient  stables,  which  now  shelter  the  stock  of  the  farmer 
who  takes  care  of  the  property  for  the  Lord-Licntcnant  of 
Ireland,  its  present  owner,  we  reached  the  porter's  lodge,  a 


KAMBLBS    IW   W;> -iWirKSIIinE. 


65 


castlo  in  itself,  and  still  in  adjnirable  preservation.  A  super- 
annnated  door-keeper  admitted  us  into  tlio  ^.-ounds  and 
then  went  to  call  the  guide,  who  was  workinjj  in  the  gar- 
<lc'n.  The  latter  personage,  a  little  man  who  had  grown  old 
ill  the  business,  changed  his  smock-frock  for  a  rusty  blue 
coat,  and  took  us  in  charge. 

He  was  a  proper  guide,  and  so  familiar  with  his  points, 
that  I  doubt  whether  ho  would  have  piloted  the  Lord-Lieu- 
tenant  (whom  he  never  named  without  touching  his  hat), 
in  any  but  the  regular  way.     Taking  us  to  the  centre  of 
the  lawn,  where  tlie  shattered,  ivy-grown  front  of  the  Cas- 
tle rose   grandly  b'forc  us,  he  pointed  out  the  different 
groups  of  buildings  and  gave  us  the  date  of  their  erection. 
Then  he  bid  us  note  the  thickness  of  the  wallb  in  the 
Cajsar's  Tower  (the  oldest  part,  built  in  a  remote  and  un- 
certain period),  after  which  he  led  us  by  a  rough  path  into 
the  dungeon  where  Edward  IL  was  prisoner,  and  then  by 
a  well-worn  staircase  to  the  top  of  the  town-    whence  we 
looked  down  on  a  broad  stretch  of  the  loveliest  meadow 
land,  dotted  with  flocks  of  sheep.     "There,"  said  he,  "  in 
the  Earl  of  Leicester's  time,  was  a  lake  two  miles  lono-,  and 
all  the  land  you  see  to  the  right,  sirs,  thirty  miles  from  the 
Castle,  was  the  chase;  and  down  there,  where  the  haw- 
thoi-ns  and  crabs  is,  was  the  plcasmc-garden."     "  Who  owns 
all   the  land  now?"  I  asked.     "The  Earl  of  Clarendon, 
Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland  "  (touching  his  hat),  "  and  he 
gf^ts  £110,000  a  year  from  it;  but  ho  never  comes  anisrh 
i^"  . 

Kenilworth  1ms  been  described  so  often,  that  I  shall  spare 
you  an  account  of  what  was  once  the  banqueting  hall,  and 


i 


50 


AT   HOME   AND   AIUtOAD. 


M\ 


Queen  Elizabeth's  tlressing-room,  louking  doAn  on  tlio 
lake,  and  the  Leicester  buildings,  the  most  ruined  of  all 
though  the  latest  built.  All  parts  of  tlie  Castle  are  mantled 
with  the  most  superb  ivy,  thrustijig  its  heavy  arms  between 
the  shattered  mulliona,  climbing  the  towers  and  topping 
them  with  mounds  and  overhanging  '-ornices  of  dark, 
bnlHant  green.  I  noticed  one  trunk  three  feet  in  diameter. 
Our  guide  did  not  permit  us  to  lose  u  single  feature  of 
the  ruin.  After  linishing  the  building,  he  took  us  the 
round  of  the  moat  wall,  and  pointed  out  the  most  pictu- 
resque effects,  lie  knew  the  positions  to  a  hair's  breadth, 
and  it  was  in  vain  that  I  attempted  to  disregard  them.  I 
must  stand  with  my  back  to  the  wall,  and  my  feet  in  just 
such  a  spot.  "Now,"  said  he,  "look  between  John  o' 
Ga'mt's  building  and  the  Leicester  building,  and  you'll 
catch  a  nice  bit  of  Ca)sa''s  Tower."  Ila  could  not  go 
wrong,  for  the  ruins  are  beautiful  and  imposing  from  every 
direction  ;  they  arc  the  crowning  charm  and  glory  of  one 
of  the  most  delicious  pastoral  landscapes  in  the  world. 

Warwick  Castle,  only  six  miles  distant,  offers  a  remarka- 
ble contiast  to  Kenil  worth.  Like  the  latter,  the  date  of  its 
foundation  is  unknown,  and  its  most  ancient  pait  bears  the 
na'ne  of  Ca?sar's  Tower;  but  v.Mle  Kenil worth  is  fast  tiim- 
bling  to  pieces,  it  remains  entire,  and  is  still  inhabited  in 
evey  part.  The  father  of  the  present  Earl  expended  im- 
mense sums  in  restoring  and  improving  it.  The  grounds 
have  been  so  laid  out  and  planted,  that  the  Castle  is  not 
seen  from  any  part  of  the  town,  but  by  walking  to  the 
bridge  over  the  Avon,  one  m.iy  obtain  a  grand  view  of  its 
embattled  front.    The  presentation  of  a  card  at  the  porter's 


TIAMPIKS   IX   WARWICKSHIKE. 


67 


lodge  was  sufficient  to  procure  us  admission.  A  carriage- 
road  cut  through  the  solid  rock,  with  a  fringe  of  feru  and 
an  arch  of  uhns  high  overhead,  leads  to  a  narrow  lawn  in 
front  of  the  Castle.  The  only  perceptible  change  in  the 
oxterior,  is  the  substitution  of  a  light  stone  arch  for  the 
drawbridge,  and  the  draining  of  the  moat,  which  is  nov>'  a 
trough  of  velvety  grass,  with  flowering  shrubs  leaning  over 
it  from  the  sides.  The  portcullis  still  hung  in  the  gateway, 
snarling  at  us  with  its  iron  teeth. 

The  inner  court-yard,  however,  has  been  i  led  over, 
and  a  new  flight  of  granite  steps  leads  to  the  entrance  ha'l, 
in  the  southern  wing  of  the  Castle.  The  suite  of  state 
apartments  in  this  wing  is  333  feet  in  length,  and  built  with 
so  much  precision  that  wheu  the  doors  are  closed  one  may 
look  straight  tlirough  all  the  key-holes  to  the  further  end. 
We  were  met  at  the  dooi-  by  the  steward,  Mr.  Williams, 
who  conducted  us  through  the  rooms.  The  old  house 
keeper  died  recently,  alter  having  amassed  £30,000  from  the 
fees  of  visitors,  the  whole  of  which  she  bequeathed  to  the 
Warwick  family.  I  do'ibt  whether  Lord  Clarendon  will 
ever  receive  as  a  legacy  the  fees  taken  at  Kenilworth.  The 
state  apartments  are  all  that  is  generally  shown,  but  as  a 
friend  of  mine,  a  native  of  WarwicTc,  accompanied  me,  the 
steward  took  us  into  the  breakfast-room,  though  the  table 
was  already  Svt  for  the  Earl,  and  showed  us  the  celebrated 
Lions  of  llubena,  several  flne  Vandykes,  and  an  original  i^or- 
ti'ait  of  Sir  Phiiip  Sidney,  a  pale  and  beautiful  face,  express- 
ing true  nobiUty  of  soul  in  every  feature. 

We  also   saw  the  arrr.orv,  which  is  usually  dosed  to 
visitors.     It  is  rich  in  ancient  armor  and  rare  and  curious 

3* 


m 


\i 


53 


AT   IlOre   AXn    AUROAD. 


'  i 


V   f 


I 


objects,  among  wiii  '^x  I  may  mention  tho  crystal  hilted 
ilaggcr  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  her  shirt  of  chain-mail,  lier 
saddle  and  the  trappings  of  her  horse;  but  I  was  most 
Htruek  -with  two  things :  a  revolving  musket,  more  than  two 
liundred  years  old,  and  a  mask,  taken  from  the  face  of 
Oliver  Cromwell,  after  death.  The  revolver  (of  the  anti- 
<piity  of  which  there  cannot  be  the  slightest  doubt)  is 
almost  precisely  similar  to  Colt's,  having  a  single  barrel,  to 
which  is  attached  a  revolving  cylinder,  containing  six 
chambers.  There  is  a  Hint  lock  and  pan  to  each  chamber, 
and  tho  firing  of  one  discharge  brings  the  succeeding  cham- 
ber to  the  barrel.  1  had  been  aware  of  the  existence  of 
this  curious  weapon,  but  was  not  prepared  to  find  the  idea 
(.tf  a  revolver  so  perfectly  developed. 

The  mask  of  Cromwell  was  found  a  short  time  since  in 
clearing  ou-  one  of  the  old  chambers  of  the  Castle,  where 
the  rubbish  had  been  accumulating  for  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years.  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  its  authenticity.  Tho 
face  is  that  of  Cromwell,  too  hard  and  rugged,  too  tevribly 
inflexible  to  be  mistaken,  while  the  prominence  of  the  large 
eye-balls  in  their  sunken  cavities,  the  slight  sharpening  of 
the  features,  and  the  set  rigidhy  of  the  grim  mouth,  show 
elearly  that  the  mould  was  never  taken  from  living  flesh. 
Yet  th'^re  seemed  a  kind  of  hard  satisfaction  in  the  expres- 
siim  of  the  face,  as  if  he  had  remembered  Dunbar  at  his 
death-hour.  Less  interesting  than  this  memorable  relic,  yet 
more  pleasant  to  behold,  is  Vandyke's  portrait  of  Caarles 
T.  on  horseback,  filling  np  the  end  of  a  long  gallery.  The 
forward  action  of  the  figure  and  the  foreshorteninof  of  tho 
horse  are  so  admirable  that  you  stand  ready  to  return  the 


f 


UAMIJLES    IN   WAUWICKSIIIRK. 


56 


8:ihito  of  tlie  liaiulsotno  Cavalier  King,  when  he  shall  have 
riddon  a  few  pace-;  further. 

After  we  had  taken  a  too  liasty  glance  at  the  superb 
paintings  on  the  walls,  and  the  exquisite  views  of  the  Avon 
from  the  windows,  we  returned  to  the   porter's  lodge, 
where  some  other  antiquities,  not  quite  so  well  verified, 
were   exhibited.     The  portress,   a  withered-looking  little 
woman,  took  her  stand  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  went 
through  her  part  after  this  wise :— "  This  here,  gentlemen, 
is  the  famous  porridge-pot  of  Guy,  Earl  of  Warwick,  as 
takes  forty  gallons  of  rum,  forty  gallons  of  brandy,  and 
iive  hundred  pounds  of  sugar  to  fill  it  wit'i  punch,  and 
was  filled  when  the  present  Earl  was  married,  likewise 
three  times  a.iu  a  half  when  Lord  Brooke  came  of  age ;  and 
this  is   Guy's  sword"   (I  seized  and  shook  it,  but  forget 
whether  it  weighed  nine  or  twenty-one  pounds),   "and 
these  is  the  Spanish  lady's  shoes,  as  was  worn  by  Fair  Phyllis, 
Guy's  wife,  and  this  is  the  horn  of  the  dun  cow  Guy  killed" 
(it  was  a  whale's  rib!);  "aud  these  is  the  boar's  tusks  he 
killed  and  was  knighted  for;  and  this  is  an  Indian  shield 
made  of  buff-ilo  hide,  and  this  is  Guy's  flesh  fork,  as  he 

dipped  out  the  pieces  of  meat  with — hrrrr-r-r-r .» 

Here  she  stirred  up  the  porridge-pot,  ringing  such  a  peal 
as  shook  the  lodge,  and  then,  fleshfork  in  hand,  stood  wait- 
ing for  her  shilHr.^.  Before  leaving,  we  took  a  shady  j.ath, 
under  larches  and  Lebanon  cedars,  to  the  garden-house  in 
which  stands  the  i-enowned  Warwick  vase.  I  have  seen  no 
vase  comparable  to  this  a  the  blending  of  per/oct  grace 
with  the  mnjf'sty  of  colossal  proportions.  The  wreathed 
vine-stalks  at  its  sides,  the  fuP  vine-bunches  and  heads  of 


60 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


il 

'    'I 


■                tl    i 

i. 

the  laughing  fauns  are  none  the  less  graceful  that  they  are 
magnified  beyond  nature. 

But  I  cannot  linger  in  the  beautiful  groves  of  Warwick, 
while  further  down  the  Avon,  girdled  by  green  meadows 
and  embosomed  in  heavy-foliaged  elms  and  limes,  lies  happy 
Stratford,  blessed  beyond  all  other  villages  in  all  the  lands 
of  the  Saxon  race.  On  the  following  morning  I  clomb  to 
the  top  of  a  country  coach  and  was  whirled  down  Warwick 
HiU,  under  the  gateway  of  Leicester's  Hospital,  across  a 
level  tract  of  garden  ground,  and  up  a  swelling  ridge — the 
summit  of  which,  as  we  drove  along  it  for  several  miles, 
commanded  wide  views  into  the  heart  of  Warwickshire — 
the  most  charming  agricultural  region  in  all  England.  To 
the  left,  beyond  the  Avon,  I  saw  in  the  distance  the  trees 
of  Charlecote  Park,  the  seat  of  the  Lucy  family,  and  the 
spire  of  the  church  where  Sir  Thomas,  of  Shakspeare- 
punishing  memory,  lies  buried.  Through  alternate  groves 
of  elm,  oak,  and  beech,  and  fields  of  smooth,  fresh  mould 
or  smoother  turf,  dotted  with  clumps  of  hawthorn,  we 
descended  to  Stratford.  The  coach  drew  up  at  the  inn  of 
the  Red  Horse  (well  known  to  Geofi"rey  Crayon),  and  I 
set  out  to  visit  the  haunts  of  Shakspeare. 

As  I  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  low,  dingy  cottage, 
where  even  princes  must  stoop  to  enter,  a  curious  English- 
man, who  had  just  arrived,  asked  the  old  woman  as  she 
bustled  out :  "  Do  you  allow  anybody  to  cut  a  piece  off  this 
board?"  at  the  same  time  laying  his  hand  on  a  rude 
counter  which  projected  into  the  street  from  the  open  shop 
windov.  "  Bless  you,"  said  she,  "  ShaVspeare  had  nothmg 
to  do  with  that.    The  butcher  who  had  the  house  long 


m. 


mt^- 


EAMBLES   IN   WABWICTiSHIEE. 


61 


after  him,  put  that  up."  In  answer  to  my  inquiry  whether 
the  house  had  ever  been  damaged  by  hunters  of  relics,  she 
said  that  the  worst  instance  was  that  of  a  party  of  board- 
ing-school girls,  who  aske:  to  be  left  alone  in  the  room 
Avhere  Shakspeare  was  born,  in  order  that  nothing  might 
disturb  their  impression  of  the  spot.  After  they  left,  a 
large  square  block  was  found  to  be  cut  from  the  mantel- 
l)iece.  I  entered,  mounted  the  crazy  stairs,  and  saw  the 
sacred  room. 

I  had  a  note  of  introduction  from  my  Warwick  friend  to 
the  teacher  of  the  Stratford  Grammar  School,  which  is  the 
same  institution  A\here  the  boy  Shakspeare  was  taught, 
and  is  still  held  in  the  same  rooms.  I  found  the  teacher 
surrounded  by  a  pack  of  bright-looking  bojs,  from  eight  to 
fourteen  years  of  age.  I  involuntarily  looked  in  their  faces 
to  find  something  of  Shakspeare.  It  seemed  impossible 
that  they  should  not  differ  from  other  children;  but  as- 
suredly they  did  not.  They  had  frank,  healthy  EngHsh 
faces,  but  the  calm,  deep,  magnificent  eyes  that  looked 
down  every  vista  of  the  marvellous  human  heart,  were  not 
there.  The  teacher  enjoined  quiet  on  them,  and  stepped 
out  to  show  us  the  old  desk,  in  a  room  on  the  ground  floor. 
This  desk  is  as  old  as  the  time  of  Shakspeare,  and  is  sup- 
posed to  have  belonged  to  the  master  of  the  school.  It  is 
a  heavy  affair  of  rough  Avood,  such  as  I  have  seen  in  the 
log  schoolhouses  of  our  own  country.  The  top  is  carved 
with  the  initials  of  the  scholars,  and  they  show  you  a  "  \Y. 
S."  whic^  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  was  cut  by — William 
Smith. 

But,  notwithstanding,  Shakspeare  did  once  stand  beside 


es 


AT   IIOMK    ANI>    AIU:<)A1>. 


;1 


!! 


\]m  ilt'sk,  in.ikiuij  iiMiiifiil  coikukvsIs  of  "  tlu»  rudiinonis," 
mill  |u'i*h;i|ts  (li«>  Worn  li<i  \  now  liO,  wms  oiu-c  UIVmI  by  w 
luorriloNM  "must «'!•/'  to  take  out  llic  nilfi-  ih'stiiu'd  to  crack 
tlio  Kmu'kh's  of  William  liimstlf  'riii>  tliiiii!;  is  nbsunl ! 
Tliink  «»!'  rappinir  llu<  knuckNs  of  .lupiicr!  W«'  can  only 
iinaifino  tlio  hahyliood  o\'  Shakspi'aro  as  Lowoll  lias  ilc- 
scriluHl  (Iiat  of  .lovo: 


'•  \Vlu>  ill  liis  NoO  liMiiil  cniMlioil  n  vi..l<>l, 
t!i>illiko  runMinisinir  tlio  n>ii.«:li  (liimili'iV  j;ii|io." 

The  toacIuT  kititlly  ol>tainc»l  ns  a<lniission  into  the  'lOnso 
ntiil  ijanlous  of  Mr.  Kiiv,  a  snvijcon,  who  livos  on  tho  site 
of  a  honso  huilt  l»y  Shaks^varo,  at\or  his  ivtironiont  from 
l.omlon.  Tlu'  toinulations  an«l  a  e.intjU'  oornor  wall  remain 
tho  sj»n\e.  hut  the  house  is  motlern,  the  jjarden  is  ehanjjotl, 
snui  tlie  irreat  nuilherry-tree  planteJ  by  Shakspeare's  liaud 
(  un>h>r  whidi  he  took  so  n>uoh  ph^asure  in  the  sweet  sun\- 
iner  atK»rnoons),  is  tiow  only  represented  by  a  grandehiUl — 
the  scion  of  a  seion.  Mr.  Kiee  has  been  otVered  .t' 1 00  for 
the  privih\<re  oC  disjiiinj;  in  the  cellar  o(  his  house,  in  tho 
hope  of  tintliui;  relies. 

Mv  l:»st  visit  was  to  Trinitv  Ohareh,  on  the  Avon.  The 
jne.niKnvs  :vhM»ir  the  river  were  tUnkeil  with  sot\  hirht  ;  ini 
sh:ubn\-  tVotn  passinsj  elotuls,  and  the  jjravivstones  in  the 
ohuri'h-yard  were  buried  warn\  and  deep  in  thick  turf. 
The  jp^rdens  beyoutl,  liid  tVoni  my  view  the  ri^ad  to  iShot- 
te".\v,  whiMv  Anne  llathawny's  oottajji*  is  still  standim;.  I 
appn>achod  tl»e  ehuri^h  under  :^  beaut vAil  avenue  o(  limes; 
the  diH>r  w:us  ojvn.  and  a  dapper  younjr  showman  had  four 
KtJijlishmon  in  tow.     I  went  at  ontv  to  tho  eh.anoel,  wliero 


RAMHLKH    IN    WAUWIOKSIMUE. 

iho  bust  of  Sliakspi'iii-o  lookoil  down  upon  mo  from  tho 
(•nstiMii  wall.  This  bust  is  supposed  to  have  been  copied 
from  a  mask  taki'ii  allor  death  ;  (Jhaut  rey  unhesitatingly  de- 
(■lan'<l  this  to  be  his  opinion.  One  of  the  eyes  seems  a  littlo 
more  sunken  than  tho  other,  and  there  are  additional  in- 
dications of  death  about  the  neck.  The  face  is  large,  serene, 
and  majestic — not  so  thin  and  young  as  in  tho  Chandos 
jticture,  nor  with  that  tine  melancholy  in  tho  eyes,  which 
suggests  to  you  his  Hamlet.  In  contemplating  it,  Prosporo 
at  once  recurred  to  me.  Thus  might  the  sage  liave  looked 
aller  he  had  broken  his  wand  and  renounced  his  art.  And 
Trospero,  one  «)f  Shakspeare's  grandest  creations,  was  at  the 
same  time  his  last. 

While  I  was  looking  on  that  wonderful  forehead,  the 
showman  rolled  up  a  pie«o  of  coarse  matting  spread  upon 
the  pavement,  and,  stepping  oiF  to  allow  it  to  pass,  I  found 
these  lines  under  my  feet : 

"Gi  Oil  friend,  for  Josus'  sake  forbear 
To  ilitf  the  dust  iiK'losed  hero ; 
Blest  bo  tho  man  that  spares  thoso  stones, 
And  curat  bo  lio  that  moves  my  bouoa." 

This  M'as  tho  simple  and  touching  inscription  dictated  by 
himself.  None  have  incurred  the  jioet's  malediction  by  dis- 
turbing his  rest.  There  is  nothing  but  (fiist  under  the  stone 
now,  but  that  dust  was  once  animated  by  Shakspeare's  soul. 
Timnk  God  that  in  this  irreverent  age  there  are  still  some 
spots  too  holy  to  profane,  sonio  memories  too  grand  and 
gUirious  to  neglect!  I  could  have  knelt  and  kissed  the 
dusty  slab,  had  I  boon  alone.     The  profound  sadness  with 


« 


it 


u 


AT   HOME  A^D  ABROAD. 


II- 


which  the  spot  oppressed  me,  was  one  of  those  emotions 
against  which  the  world  soon  hardens  us.  Too  subtle  and 
precious  to  be  called  up  at  will,  they  surprise  us  at  times 
with  the  freshness  of  a  feeling  we  had  thought  exhausted. 

We  walked  back  to  Warwick  over  the  same  breezy  ridge, 
and  in  the  evening,  with  our  friends,  sauntered  over  the 
fields  to  Guy's  Cliff.  The  family  were  absent,  but  a  house- 
keeper, flaunting  in  purple  satin,  refused  to  admit  us  ;  so, 
after  watching  the  sunset  build  a  crimson  and  golden  oi  iel, 
at  the  end  of  a  long  chancel  of  arching  elms,  facing  the 
west,  we  descended  to  the  Avon,  climbed  into  Guy's  Cave, 
explored  the  damp  cloisters  cut  in  the  cliff,  by  the  brief 
light  of  lucifer  matches,  and  closed  the  evening  by  a  waiic 
to  Leamington,  which  we  saw  to  great  advantage  by  min- 
gled gas  and  moonlight. 

Warwick  will  always  be  endeared  to  me  by  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  kind  English  hospitality  I  received  within  its 
walls.  I  was  indebted  to  Frederick  Enoch,  a  young  War- 
wickshire poet,  whose  volume  I  had  read  in  America,  for  two 
of  the  most  pleasant  and  memorable  days  of  my  travels. 

Before  leaving,  we  went  to  see  another  house,  scarcely 
less  interesting  than  Warwick  Castle.  Few  Americans,  I 
presume,  have  heard  of  Charles  Redfern,  yet  there  are  not 
many  of  the  English  nobility  to  whom  his  name  and  person 
are  not  familiar.  If  any  sale  of  rare  and  curious  furniture, 
old  heirlooms,  jewelry,  or  other  objects  of  virtu,  takes  place 
anywhere  between  the  Alps  and  John  o'Groat's  house, 
Redfern  is  sure  to  be  there.  Does  any  Lord  want  to  make 
a  rare  and  costly  present  to  his  betrothed,  any  Dowager 
w  ish  to  surpass  some  other  Dowager,  in  the  attractions  of 


>T^s^m^^^7: 


BAMBLES   IX   WABW1CK8HIKB. 


65 


her  boudoir,  it  is  to  Redfem  Le  or  she  applies.  Redfem, 
who  began  life  with  scarce  a  penny,  was  Mayor  of  "Warwick, 
and  had  a  house  crammed  from  top  to  bottom  with  the 
rarest,  most  unique  and  superb  articles.  There  is  barely 
room  to  get  up  and  down  stairs,  and  to  pass  in  and 
out  of  the  rooms.  Your  nerves  are  in  a  tingle  from  the 
time  you  enter  till  the  time  you  leave.  Stumble  in  the  en- 
try, and  you  will  knock  down  an  antique  bust;  open  the 
door  too  wide,  and  you  smash  a  vase  of  gilded  porcelain  ; 
lean  too  far  to  the  right,  and  you  shatter  some  urns  of  agate 
and  amethyst ;  to  the  left,  and  you  break  the  dressing-case  of 
Charles  I.  Here  is  Cromwell's  mother,  taken  from  life ;  there 
a  Holbein  or  a  Salvator  Rosa ;  here  jewels  that  belonged 
to  Marie  Antoinette ;  there  the  spoils  of  twenty  palaces. 
The  whole  collection  must  be  worth  at  least  $75,000. 

Our  friend  declared  that  after  seeing  Redfern's  house,  we 
ought  to  -isit  its  owner,  who  was  then  holding  Court  in  the 
Town  Hall.  So  we  entered  the  Court-room,  where  a  case 
of  some  kind  was  being  tried,  in  the  presence  of  forty  or 
fifty  spectators.  Our  friend  led  the  way;  the  Mayor,  on 
the  bench,  made  a  sign  to  the  attendant  policemen.  "  Make 
way !  make  way !"  cried  the  officials.  The  people  fell  back ; 
the  case  was  suspended,  and  we  walked  up  to  the  bench 
amid  the  most  solemn  silence.  ]\rayor  Redfern,  however, 
who  has  a  frank,  ruddy  face,  which  no  one  could  help 
liking,  was  exceedingly  affiible,  and  put  us  quite  at  our 
ease  with  his  first  words.  We  did  not  suspend  justice  long ; 
the  poUcemen  kept  the  way  clear,  and  we  made  our  exit  in 
state.  As  we  loft  Warwick  an  hour  afterwards,  the  specta- 
tors had  no  chance  of  being  undeceived  as  to  our  rank. 


.. 


VII. 


A  WALK  FROM  IIETDELBERCx  TO  NUREMBERG. 


[OCTOBEK,    1851.] 


Paet  I.— The  Valley  of  the  Neckae  and  Kociieb. 

On  leaving  Frankfort,  I  decided  to  take  Nuremberg  in 
my  route  to  Vienna.  The  usual  track,  via  Stuttgard,  Ulm, 
and  Munich,  was  already  familiar  to  me,  from  having  lite' 
rally  measured  the  whole  of  it,  step  by  step.  There 
remained,  however,  for  more  than  three-fourths  of  the 
distance,  a  new  route,  part  of  which  I  had  never  seen 
described,  and  which  the  guide-books  but  barely  hinted  at 
—that  wild,  hUly  region,  lying  between  Heidelberg  and 
Nuremberg,  and  watered  by  the  tributaries  of  the  Neckar 
and  the  Main.  This,  I  imagined,  would  amply  repay  the 
fatigue  of  a  foot-journey  and  the  additional  time  required 
to  explore  it.     With  two  companions,  I  made  the  necessary 


""I^^JJ-t  '^  J  -M::^! 


it^MUm 


A   WALK    F 


UEIDELBERO   TO   NUREMBERG.  67 


outlay  for  knapsacks,  forwarded  my  heavy  luggage  by  the 
post  to  Ratisbon,  and  left  Heidelberg  at  sunrise,  by  the  little 
Neckar  steamer.  The  first  four  miles  of  our  way  were 
familiar  to  me,  and  in  the  fresh,  cool  beauty  of  the  morn- 
ing, I  amused  myself  by  tracing  the  road  on  which  I  tra- 
veiled  in  1845,  weary  and  foot--ore,  and  with  only  two 
kreutzers  in  my  pocket.  Beyond  NeckargcmUnd,  the  bold, 
wooded  mountains  (now  touched  H-ith  their  first  autumnal 
tints)  embrace  the  river  more  closely,  leaving  but  a  narrow 
strip  of  greenest  turf  next  the  water's  edge.  The  steamer 
bent  and  shook  as  she  worked  her  way  slowly  up  the  rapids. 
Three  tall  cranes  flew  before  us  from  point  to  point,  at 
times  alighting  on  the  grass  to  wait  our  approach. 

Opposite  Neckarsteinach,  which,  with  its  four  ruined 
castles,  sits  in  the  centre  of  a  semicircle  of  hills,  we  saw  the 
old  fortress  of  Dilsberg,  cro\vning  the  smnmit  of  an  isolated 
peak.     This  place  was  formerly  used   as  a  sort  of  State 
Prison  for  the  fractious  students  of  Heidelberg.     The  peni- 
tentiary system  in  those  days,  however,  must  have  been 
much  more  lenient  than  at  present;  for  it  is  related  that 
when  a  foreigner  of  distinction  once  visited  Dilsberg  and 
asked  permission  to  see  the  fortress,  the  Superintendent 
answered  that  it  was  impossible  to  gratify  his  request,  the 
State  prisoners  being  then  on  a  tour  of  pleasure  through 
the    Odonwald,   with    the  keys   in   their   pockets!     The 
Xeckar,  beyond  this  ])lace,  presents  a  succession  of  charm- 
ing landscapes.     Folded  lovingly  in  the  heart  of  the  moun- 
tains, its  waters  now  mirror  the  rich  foliage  of  the  beech, 
ash,  and  maple,  now  the  dark  monotony  of  the  fir,  and  the 
open  and  smiling  beauty  of  the  fields  of  com  and  vine. 


'.a  ksTi  iwr  1  -F^— -saa,  A- 


I 


3S 


Ml 


m ' 

■I     F  •' 


AT   HOH£   AND  AUfiOAD. 


08 

Though  not  so  rich  in  historic  interest  as  the  Rhine,  nor  so 
bold  in  its  features,  its  landscapes  present  the  same  enchant- 
ing variety,  touched  with  a  mellower  grace  and  a  tenderer 
human  sentiment.  Here  there  is  little  to  remind  one  of 
battle  and  bloodshed.  The  quiet  villages,  nestled  at  the 
entrances  of  yet  virgin  valleys  winding  into  the  hills,  are 
dropping  to  i)ieces  only  by  age,  and  the  sombre  coloring 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  which  they  still  wear,  does  no  vio- 
lence to  the  peaceful  repose  of  the  cultivated  slopes  behind 
them. 

Among  the  passengers  on  our  little  craft  was  a  stout 
French  gentleman,  whose  musical  voice  and  exquisite  pro- 
nunciation of  his  native  tongue  attracted  me  to  him.     In 
the  course  of  our  conversation  he  confided  to  me  the  fact 
that  he  had  travelled  from  Liege  to  Heidelberg  with  Lola 
Montes,  and  had  arrived  at  the  latter  place  on  the  previous 
evening.     My  Frenchman  was  extravagant  in  his  admira- 
tion of  that  wonderful  woman ;  he  could  speak  of  nothing 
else.     "  Elk  est  une  femme  extraordinaire—vraiment  ex- 
traordinaire ! "     And  he  went  on  to  relate  to  me  several 
curious  incidents  whereof  Le  was  witness.     He  then  pulled 
out  his  cigar-case  and  showed  me,  carefully  laid  away  in 
the  safest  corner,  two  delicate  white  cigaritos  which  the 
astonishing  Lola  had  made  with  her  own  hands  and  given 
to  him. 

We  passed  Eberbach,  a  fine  old  town,  situated  in  the  lap  of 
a  beautiful  amphitheatre  of  hills  and  overlooked  by  the  loftv 
Katzenbuckel  (Cat's-Back),  the  highest  peak  of  the  Oden- 
wald.  Beyond  this  feline  hump,  which  is  arched  in  a  state 
of  perpetual  indignation,  the  mountains  are  lower  and  the 


A    WALK   FKOM   IlEIDKLnERa  TO   NURKMBKRG. 


60 


wild  woods  stand  back  to  give  place  to  th»>  ','T">.  At 
Neckarelz,  our  little  steamer  ran  her  nost  9';'iln8t  tl. ;  bank 
and  we  junped  ashore  on  the  green  tun.  Vo  'owing  a 
road  which  .ed  up  the  valley  of  thr-  Elz,  we  ^>  s?"  through 
the  stately  town  of  Mosbach  and  took  a  by-^-ay  leading 
over  the  hills  to  Mokmtlhl,  in  the  valley  of  t-ie  .j'axt.  Just 
as  we  gjiined  the  height,  the  sun,  which  had  been  obscured 
all  day,  broke  through  the  clouds  and  poured  over  the 
landscape  such  long,  golden  sunset-lights,  that  in  their 
splendor  the  ploughed  fields,  the  acres  of  turnips  and  beets, 
ixrxd  even  the  stones  piled  by  the  wayside,  wero  glorified  and 
imbued  witn  celestial  beauty.  But  soon  the  shadows  grew 
longer  ar  i  cooler,  and  night  came  on  as  we  reached  a  little 
village  culled  Billigheim,  sunk  in  a  deep  valley. 

We  found  beds  at  a  country  loirthshaua  called  the 
"  Golden  IStag,"  and  took  our  places  in  the  guests'  room, 
between  two  tables  full  of  Baden  soldiery.  The  landlord, 
Avho  brought  us  our  'ipper,  entered  into  conversation,  and 
I  asked  him,  among  other  things,  whether  the  castle  of  old 
Goetz  von  Berlichi  igen  was  not  still  standing,  near  Jaxt- 
hausen.  "Ah,  y^u  know  him,  then!"  said  he,  and  his 
eyes  sparkled  so  suddenly  th'.^.  I  was  delighted  to  find  so 
much  enthusiasm  fo*-  '  e  name  of  Goetz,  among  his  native 
hills.  "Of  course  I  know  him,"  I  replied;  "who  does 
not?"  "Then  you  are  going  to  visit  him,"'  he  rejoined; 
"but  is  it  true  that  he  ij  about  to  enter  the  Austrian 
service  ?  "  I  made  no  answer,  quite  taken  aback  at  being 
so  misunderstood;  but  very  soon  the  landlord  returned, 
and  lifting  his  cap,  asked ;  "  Perhaps  the  gentlemen  would 
prefer  wine  of  an  old  vintage  ?  "     Of  course  nothing  tould 


to 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


be  too  ofood  for  the  fjiends  of  Bcrlichingen.     Our  supper, 

which  was  nearly  ready,  was  delayed  ia  order  to  be  served 

up  in  such  tiate  as  the  inn  afforded,  and  the  landlady,  who 

had  rather  neglected  us,  came  up  with  a  smiling  face  and 

sat   down  to   talk  about  our  distinguished  acquaintance. 

"And  so  you  are  going  to  visit  the  Herr  von  B'-rlichingen?" 

"  Your  husband  has  misunderstood  me,"  I  said ;  « it  is  not 

the  young  Herr  that  I  know,  but  the  old  knight,  Goetz— 

the  one  with  the  iron  hand."— "Ah,"  said  she,  "I  never 

saw  him"    However,  we  were  indebted  to  the  grand  old 

Goetz  for  a  gool  su].per,  and  fi-esh  sheets  on  our  beds: 

wherefore  we  blessed  his  memory. 

At  daybreak  next  morning,  Ave  resumed  our  knapsacks. 
It  had  rained  in  the  night,  and  the  by-road  was  very  slip- 
pery, but  after  crossing  the  border  into  Wtirtcmburg,  wo 
found  a  ]        r  path,  leading  down  through  forests  of  beech 
and  oak  iiuo  the  green  meadows  of  the  Jaxt.     At  Motk- 
miihl,  where  we  stopped  for  breakfast  in  a  queer  old  inn, 
the  landlord,  finding  we  were  Americans,  instantly  ran  out, 
and  after  a  few  minutes'  absence,  brought  with  him  a 
strong,  intelligent  young  man,  who  was  to  leave  for  I'Tew 
York  next  day,  with  his  wife.     lie  was  accompanied  by  a 
soldier  and  an  old  bauer,  and  all  throe  plied  me  with  ques- 
tions  respecting  our  country,  its  laws,  and  institutions. 
What  most  troubled  the  old  bauer,  was  the  news  which  he 
had   somehow  received,  that  nobody  was  allowed  to  sit 
donn  in  an  American  inn,  hut  each  one  must  drink  his  beer 
•'tanding,  and   inimediatc'ly  walk  on'.     I  gave  the  young 
emigrant  all  the  information  which  I  thought  would  be  of 
service  to  him.    Kot  only  here,  but  at  every  place  where 


ji 


A  WALJi.   FKOM   UEIDELBERG   TO   NUREMBERG. 


71 


we  stopped,  many  persons  had  left  or  were  about  leaving. 
The  landlord  at  MockniQhl  said  that  things  were  much 
worse  since  the  Ilevolution.  "There  is  no  more  confi- 
dence,'' said  he;  "those  who  have  money  hoard  it  up, 
through  fear  of  more  troubles.  Money  is  therefore  very 
scarce,  and  the  poor  people  sufter.  Besides  this,  the  laws 
are  harder  upon  us  than  they  were ;  everything  goes  badly, 
and  nobody  is  satisiied." 

After  striking  the  Jaxt,  a  bold,  rapid  stream,  coursing 
round  abrupt  points  and  through  wide  amphitheatres  of 
vine-hills,  we  followed  its  banks  for  several  miles,  passing 
a  succession  of  emerald  meadows,  starred  with  the  blos- 
soms of  the  colchicum.  The  views  up  and  down  the 
stream  were  remarkably  lovely.  In  one  i^lace  we  passed 
along  the  sides  of  a  natural  amphitheatre,  half  a  mile  in 
diameter.  The  stone  terraces  built  for  the  vines  might 
have  served  for  regular  rows  of  seats,  from  which  five 
hundred  thousand  spectators  could  look  on  the  tilling- 
ground  of  the  beautiful  plain  below.  At  Jaxthausen,  an 
ancient  and  picturesque  village  on  the  right  bank,  we 
halted  to  see  the  Castle  of  Berlichingen,  m  which  Goetz 
was  born,  and  where  he  spent  most  of  his  days.  It  is  a 
plain,  square  structure,  still  retaining  its  moat  and  draw- 
bridge, though  the  buildings  are  beginning  to  show  the 
wear  of  five  centuries.  The  village  magistrate,  who  was 
a  student  at  Hcidelburg  in  '45,  and  knew  some  friends  of 
mine,  gave  us  admission  into  the  chapel  and  rittersaal.  In 
the  former  place — a  dark,  dusty  chamber— he  showed  us 
a  flag  borne  in  the  battle  of  Lutzen,  the  wooden  forks 
and  spoons  of  some  of  the  Crusaders,  the  sword,  stirrups, 


))        >i 


72 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


i 


^1 


Ni 


bridle,  battle-axe,  and  lastly,  the  Iron  Hand  of  Goetz  von 
Berlieliingen,  This  remarkable  relic  has  just  been  restored 
to  the  Castle,  the  family  having  taken  it  with  them  to 
Ludwigsburg,  whither  they  fled  during  the  Revolution  of 
1848.  It  is  a  steel  hand,  of  beautiful  workmanship,  with 
a  gauntlet  of  the  same  metal  reaching  nearly  to  the 
elbow,  by  which  it  was  fitted  to  the  stump  of  the  right 
arm.  The  fingers  opened  and  closed  by  springs  in  the 
Avrist,  which  are  now  useless ;  the  thumb  is  still  perfect, 
and  bends  its  iron  joints  with  the  greatest  readiness. 
With  the  hand  is  preserved  a  portrait  on  glass  of  its 
owner— a  heavy  Saxon  face,  but  firm,  true,  and  resolute 
enough  in  its  expression  for  him  who  was  called  "The 
Last  of  the  Knights." 

Atler  leaving  Jaxthausen,  we  crossed  a  high  and  narrow 
plateau  of  grazing  land,  and  descended  by  a  wild  glen  into 
the  valley  of  the  Kocher.  For  the  rest  of  the  day,  our 
road  led  up  the  stream,  through  the  most  enchanting 
scenery.  For  rich  pastoral  beauty,  I  know  of  no  valley 
in  Germany  surpassing  the  Kocherthal.  Sunk  deep  be- 
tween mountains  which  are  covered  with  vine-terraces  to 
their  very  tops,  the  river  has  yet  no  bold  and  abrupt 
banks,  but  wanders  with  a  devious  Avill  through  long 
reaches  of  level  meadow-land,  green  and  flowery  as  in 
mid-May.  Every  turn  of  the  hills  opened  to  us  a  new 
valley,  each  with  a  little  town  in  its  centre.  These  towns, 
which  occur  at  intervals  of  half  a  league,  preserve  entire 
the  walls  r.-d  towers  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and,  to  all 
appearance,  no  new  building  has  been  erected  in  them 
for  centuries.    The  Kocherthal  lies  in  the  heart  of  a  region 


j! 


^^'9'^'^MM!&'' 


S^"  ^tsS^^^ig 


A  WALK   FROM   HEIDELBEBG  TO   NUItEMBEEG, 


73 


which  is  touched  by  no  modern  route  of  travel,  and  pre- 
serves, with  scarce  a  change,  a  faithful  picture  of  Ancient 
Germany. 

Towards  sunset,  we  climbed  the  side  of  a  long  hill, 
whence  we  could  overlook  the  valley  for  many  a  league 
before  and  behind  us.  At  our  feet  lay  the  town  of  KUn- 
zelsau,  half  embosomed  in  forests  which  descended  from 
the  rugged  heights  in  its  rear.  The  massive  white  front 
of  a  castle  belonging  to  the  Prince  of  Ehringen,  rose 
above  the  banks  of  the  Kocher,  domineering  over  the 
dai-k,  pomted  gables  and  mossy  roofs  of  the  old  place. 
A  mountain  stream,  leaping  from  the  forests,  passes  into 
the  streets,  roars  through  an  arch  under  the  Rathhaus  at 
the  head  of  the  public  squ;  -e,  where  two  flights  of  stone 
steps  lead  down  to  its  bed,  and  then  disappears  under 
the  pavement.  We  saw  but  little  of  the  town,  for  it  was 
dark,  and  we  were  somewhat  stiff  from  a  walk  of  twenty- 
five  miles.  At  the  "  Bell "  (to  which  inn  I  would  recom- 
mend all  tourists  visiting  Kunzelsau)  we  found  rest  and 
refreshment. 

We  left  the  Kocher  at  dawn,  and  crossed  a  stretch  of 
coid  upland  to  Langenburg,  on  the  upper  v/aters  of  the 
Jaxt,  where  we  breakfasted.  The  Prince  of  Langenburg, 
whose  castle  crowned  a  bluff,  high  above  the  stream,  is  a 
brother-in-law  of  Prince  Albert.  This  was  Id  me  by  the 
landlord,  who  also  showed  me  a  stag's  head,  with  a 
superb  pair  of  seven-branched  ant!  '^.  The  stag,  he  said, 
was  the  last  of  all  those  with  winch  the  forests  around 
had  formerly  been  filled.  Once  it  was  a  common  sight 
to  see  groups  of  eight  or  ten  on  the  hills ;  but  that  was 


,:.^g^^-,^.v,i 


u 


AT   IIOIIE   AND   ABROAD. 


before  the  Revolution  of  1848.  When  the  noblemen  fled 
to  the  fortresses,  the  deer  had  no  keepers,  and  were  all 
chased  aad  slaughtered.  This  stag  alone  was  left,  and 
for  two  seasons  the  hunters  had  been  on  his  track.  Only- 
two  weeks  before  they  had  brought  him  to  bay  for  the 
first  time,  and  slain  him.  Some  of  hie  meat  was  in  the 
house,  and  I  might  have  a  steak  served  up  in  princely  style 
if  I  liked. 

The  rest  of  the  day's  journey,  for  more  than  twenty 
miles,  lay  across  a  high  and  somewhat  barren  table-land, 
dividing  the  waters  of  the  Neckar  from  those  of  the  Main. 
The  land  is  devoted  principally  to  grazing  and  the  more 
hardy  kinds  of  grain  and  vegetables,  but  here  and  there  the 
road  skirts  fine  forests  of  fir.  The  villages,  which  are  rare, 
are  small,  and  have  an  aspect  of  poverty.  We  learned, 
too  late  to  take  advantage  of  the  information,  that  the 
great  Fair  of  Roth-am-See  was  being  held  in  the  meadows 
of  Musbach,  not  more  than  a  league  out  of  our  way.  This 
Fair,  which  has  been  held  on  the  same  meadow  for  several 
centuries,  is  probably  the  most  peculiar  in  Germany,  as  it 
is  fre<3uented  principally  by  the  peasants  of  Suabia  and 
Franconia,  and  exhibits  many  curious  usages,  which  else- 
where have  passed  away. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  after  enduring  two  or  three  show- 
ers, we  saw,  under  a  dark  and  gusty  sky,  the  towers  of  the 
venerable  City  of  Rothenburg.  It  was  apparently  built  on 
a  rise  in  the  plain,  but  on  approaching  nearer,  we  found 
that  its  walls  overhang  the  brink  of  a  deep  gorge,  at  the 
bottom  of  which  flows  the  Tauber,  a  tributary  of  the 
Main.    Even  from  the  little  I  saw  of  it  on  approaching, 


:=*i:: 


A   WALK  PKOM   HEIDKLBERG   TO   NtJEBarBERG.  75 

I  felt  sure  it  would  richly  repay  a  longer  tramp  than  we 
had  made.  Everything  about  it  is  fresh  and  unhackneyed. 
The  landlord  said  we  were  the  first  native  Americans  he 
ever  saw,  and  requested  us  to  write  our  names  in  his  book, 
at  the  top  of  a  new  leaf. 


VIII. 
A  WALK  FROM  HEIDELBERG  TO  NUREMBERG. 


[OCTOBER,   1S61.] 


Part  IL — Rothexburg  and  Nurembepg. 

RoTHEXBURG— the  name  of  which  is  scarcely  mentioned  iu 
guide-books— is  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  remarkable 
places  in  all  Germany.  Founded  before  the  year  800,  and 
till  the  twelfth  century  under  the  dominion  of  the  Counts 
of  Rothenbnrg,  it  was  for  seven  himdred  years  a  Free  City 
of  the  German  Empire,  having  imder  its  jurisdiction  one 
hundred  and  forty-three  villages,  and  was  only  incorporated 
with  Bavaria  in  the  beginning  of  the  present  century.  As 
the  chief  city  in  the  old  province  of  Mittel-Frankon  (Mid- 
Franconia),  it  has  always  been  an  important  place,  and 
through  its  present  isolated  position  (being  at  some  dis- 
tance from  any  travelled  toute),  still  preserves  much  of  its 
ancient  appearance  and  character.    These  facts  I  learned 


t 


A   WALK   FROM    UEIDELBEBQ  TO   NUKEMBERG. 

from  Herr  Wolf,  the  landlord  of  the  "  Golden  Stag,"  as 
we  leaned  out  of  the  rear  window  of  his  house,  on  the 
evening  of  our  arrival.  The  inn  is  built  against  the  city 
wall,  and  our  Avindow  looked  down  into  the  deep  and 
rugged  gorge  of  the  Tauber.  The  old  fortress  of  Roth- 
enburg  formerly  crowned  the  very  point  of  the  headland, 
around  which  the  river  winds,  almost  insulating  the  city, 
and  making  it,  except  on  the  side  towards  the  table-land, 
next  to  impregnable. 

Herr  Wolf  first  directed  our  attention  to  an  old  house 
on  the  headland,  which  was  built  in  the  eighth  century. 
He  then  informed  us  that  when  the  Rothenburg  knights 
returned  from  the  Crusades,  they  were  struck  with  the 
singular  resemblance  between  the  position  of  the  city  and 
that  of  Jerusalem — a  resemblance  to  which  many  later 
travellers  have  testified.  The  Tauber,  far  below  us,  was 
the  Brook  Kedron ;  opposite  rose  Mount  Olivet ;  further 
down  the  gorge  was  the  Pool  of  Siloam,  and  directly  under* 
us  a  little  chapel  marked  the  site  of  Gethsemane.  Near 
it  stands  an  old  church,  now  disused,  to  which,  in  former 
times,  multitudes  made  their  pilgrimage.  The  localities 
were  carefully  compared  with  Jerusalem,  and  a  new  Via 
Dolorosa  was  made  along  the  sides  of  the  hill,  with  twelve 
shrines  representing  the  twelve  places  where  Christ  rested 
under  the  weight  of  the  cross.  I  could  still  trace  the 
path,  though  the  shrines  are  gone,  and  the  pilgrims  come 
no  longer.  The  ghostly  old  church  is  now  called  the 
Koboldskeller  (Cellar  of  the  Gnomes). 

The  landlord  related  to  me  a  curious  incident  connected 
with  the  later  history  of  Rothenburg.     "  The  city,"  said  he, 


Z^'^ff^T'-. 


^-r'^-. 


.3'^' 


:^^-X::^w^-^mw 


.T??K^^:,^ 


'^rf?*- 


98 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


wa,  ooce  besieged  by  Tilly  and  Wallcnstdn,  but  the 
Senate  and  atUe,,,  made  such  a  stubborn  resistanee  that 
was  taken  wth  g,-eat  difficlty.    Tilly  was  so  incensed 
agan,st  .„e  Bu,.go„,a.te,.,  ou  .bis  aeeount  tl,at  be  „rd    ed 
them  all  to  be  beheaded  and  the  city  razed  to  the  ground 
Nevertheless,  they  received  him  and  Wallenstein  i„  thj 
great  hall  of  the  Jtathhaus,  and  had  the  finest  old  Tauber 
wme  brought  up  from  the  cellar.    The  Emper„r-s  goblet 
was  on  th,  table,  and  Tilly  drank,  aud  Wallenstein  drank, 
t.U  the  br.uor  soaeued  their  iron  mood.     '  You  have  gooi 
Lquor,. ,. aid  Tilly,  -and  no  doubt  good  drinkers,  .„„     If 
any  of  you  will  dr.™  this  cup  (liftiug  the  E,„„eror's  gob- 
let  w  uch  held  about  seven  quarts)  he  aud  his  comrades 
shah  be  pardoned,  and  I  will  spare  the  city.'    Tl,e  .Mef 
Burgomaster  was  .already  on  his  way  to  e.ec„ti„n,'a,:d 
.here  w™  no  time  to  lose.    Thereupon,  Herr  Nusch,  one 
of  the  Senate,  filled  the  mighty  bowl,  and  Uftin..  it  to  his 
•  mouth  with  both  hands,  drank  it  dry,  without  stopping  ,0 
-ake  breath.    Tilly  w.as  as  good  as  bis  word.     A  mes'sen- 
ger  was  at  once  dispn.ebed  to  stay  the  cKcution  ;  and  the 
street  where  he  met  the  Chief  Burgomaster  on  his  way  ,„ 

ver    da"  T^^"^  ""  ^''""^"'""'"'  («"«'  »f  Joj")  to  this 

We  tried  the  Tauber  wine  witli  our  supper,  and  found  it 
%ht,  pure,  and  pleasant.  Still,  I  should  rather  let  the 
headsn.an  be  summoned  than  perform  Burgomaster  Kuseh's 
feat.  During  the  evening,  a  number  of  persons  called  at 
the  mn,  apparently  to  drink  beer  and  .moke,  but  in  reality 
to  see  and  question  the  \mericans.  I  did  my  best,  talking 
in  an  atmosphere  of  bad  tobacco  till  near  midnight,  but 


^ 


P:/.M; 


A   WALK   FROM   UEIDELBEBO   TO   NUREMBERG. 


Id 


my  endurance  was  not  equal  to  their  curiosity.  The  fact 
of  my  liaving  seen  CaUfornia  was  ahuost  incredible  to 
them.  "  Really,"  said  a  fat  Rothenburger  merchant,  "  this 
is  the  most  interesting  thhig  that  ever  happened  to  me." 

Early  next  morning,  one  of  the  teachers  in  the  City 
School  called  to  accompany  us  through  the  city.  The 
weather  was  dull  and  rainy,  and  we  had  only  time  to 
visit  the  principal  places.  We  went  first  to  the  Rath- 
haus,  passmg  on  our  way  a  quaint  building  with  a  richly 
ornamented  gable,  in  which  Sultan  Bajazet  lodged  when 
on  his  visit  to  the  German  Emperor.  The  Ratlihaus  has 
a  stately  front  in  the  Italian  style,  a  curious  winding  stair- 
case, and  the  dark  old  hall  in  which  Tilly  drank  with  the 
Senate.  Our  conductor  led  us  through  many  dusty  cham- 
bers to  a  steep  wooden  stairway  mounting  into  the  tower. 
After  a  long  journey,  we  came  into  a  little  hot  room,  nearly 
half  of  which  was  occupied  by  a  German  stove.  The  only 
hihabitants  were  an  old  man  and  a  clock.  The  former 
placed  a  ladder  against  the  ceilmg,  opened  a  trap-door,  and 
disappeared  through  it.  I  squeezed  through  after  him,  felt 
the  rain  dash  in  my  face,  and  then  turned  away,  faint 
with  the  giddy  view.  The  slight  parapet  around  the  top 
of  the  tower  overhung  its  base,  and  in  the  wind  and 
driving  mist  I  seemed  swinging,  not  only  over  the  city, 
but  over  the  chasm  far  below  it.  Beyond  this,  and  across 
its  rugged  walls,  I  looked  out  on  the  wide  sweep  of  the 
plain,  bounded  on  the  east  by  a  misty  range  of  hills.  Sa- 
vage and  strange  as  the  landscape  was,  I  had  scarcely  nerve 
enough  to  bear  the  sight. 

The  Church,  which  we  visited,  dates  from  the  fourteenth 


I 


80 


AT  UOMB  AND   ABROAD. 


century,  and  its  interior  is  a  beautiful  specimen  of  the  pure 
Gothic  style.    It  is  in   complete  preservation,   and   still 
contams  the  altar-piece  by  Wohlgemuth,  master  of  Albert 
Durer,  and  fine   car^-ings  in  wood  by  the  old  sculptor, 
Herlen.     Our  conductor  Mas  acquainted  with  a  physician 
of  the  city,  who  possesses  the  famous  goblet  of  which  I 
8poke,  and  was  kind  enough  to  take  us  to  see  it     The 
Doctor's  sister   received   us  cordially,   and  brought   the 
precious  relic  from  its  place  of  safety.     It  is  an  immense 
glass  tankard,  about  fourteen  inches  high  and  six  in  dia- 
meter, with  paintings  of  the  Emperor,   Kings,  Electors, 
and  Bxshops  of  Germany.     I  asked  the  lady  what  was  the 
effect  of  such  a   draught   on    Burgomaster  Nusch,  from 
whom  she  was  descended.     She  said  that,  according  to  the 
account  preserved  in  the  family,  he  slept  two  days  and  two 
nights,  after  which  he  awoke  in  good  health,  and  lived 
seven  years  afterwards  to  enjoy  the  gratitude  of  his  fellow 
Burgomasters. 

As  the  ram  continued,  we  hired  a  carriage  for  5  florins 
(about  $2),  to  convey  us  to  Anspach,  a  distance  of  twenty- 
five  miles.      The   road    Ues    through   a    barren    upland, 
crossed  by  two   or  three  ranges  of  hills,  covered   with 
forests  of  fir.    The  driver  informed  me  that  the  land  was 
costly  m   spite   of  its   indifferent   quality,  and   that   this 
year  nearly  every  crop  was  bad.    Wheat  is  already  double 
the  usual  price,  and  the  poor  people  begin  to  feel  the 
effects  of  it.     Here,  too,  many  were  leaving  for   4merica 
and  he  (the  driver)  would  go  if  he  had  money. 

Anspach,   formerly  the  residence  of  the  Margraves  of 
Anspach  and  Baireuth,  is  a  dull  town  of  about  ten  thou- 


A   WALK   FROM   HEIDELBERG  TO   MJREMBERG. 


81 


sand  inhabitants,  but  has  a  magnificent  Hesidem  and  gar- 
dens. While  our  carriage  was  getting  ready  for  Nurem- 
berg, we  took  a  walk  in  the  superb  avenues  of  lindens, 
now  gleaming  golden  in  their  autumnal  leaves.  This  park 
has  a  singular  and  melancholy  interest  from  the  fact  that 
Caspar  Hauser  was  stabbed  here  on  the  Uth  of  December, 
1833.  In  a  lonely  corner,  hidden  by  thickets  which  always 
keep  the  place  in  shadow,  we  found  the  monument,  a  plain 
shaft  with  these  words,  and  no  more :  "  Ilic  occultls  ocmlto 
occisus  esV*  The  name — which  you  always  pronounce  in 
an  undertone  in  Germany — is  not  mentioned.  And  yet, 
but  for  the  deed  here  commemorated,  Caspar  Hauser  (ac- 
cording to  the  secret  popular  belief)  would  have  been  Grand 
Duke  of  Baden  at  this  day.  We  may  well  shrink  from 
lifting  the  veil  which  covers  the  mystery  of  his  life,  when 
it  conceals  a  strange  and  terrible  tale  of  crime.  A  few 
paces  distant  is  the  monument  of  the  poet  Uz,  a  pillar 
crowned  with  his  bust.  When  a  child,  I  read  an  account 
of  the  murder  of  Casjiar  Hauser,  at  the  time  of  its  occur- 
rence, and  while  standing  on  the  spot,  every  word  of  the 
story  came  back  to  my  memory. 


"  If  one  the  German  land  would  know, 
And  love  with  all  his  heart, 
Then  let  him  go  to  Nuremberg, 
The  homo  of  noblest  art." 


So  says  an  old  song  by  Schenkendorf,  and  so  say  I, 
charmed  with  the  little  I  have  seen  of  Nuremberg.  No 
one  knows  Germany,  who  has  not  visited  this  place.     In 

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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER, NY.  1 4580 

(716)  872-4503 


82 


:1 


AT  HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


Other  cities  you  see  the  ruins  of  German  Art  and  German 
lue  in  the  Middle  Ages;  here  you  see  that  Art  still  pre- 
served,   that  life  still  vital  in  ail  its  quaint  forms  and 
expressions.    You  are  not  reminded  of  the  Past,  for  you 
live  in  it.    It  requires  as  great  an  effort  to  recall  the 
Present,  as  it  does  elsewhere  to  forget  it.    And  the  a-e 
into  which  you  step,  on  leaving  the  Nmeteenth  Century 
which  has  steamed  you  hither  (for  the  railroad  brushes 
the  wa.8,  but  dares  not  pierce  them),  is  not  stern  or  harsh 
m  Its  aspect.    Its  ruder  outlines  are  softened,  its  shadowy 
places  glorified,  by  the  Divine  light  of  Art.     With  its 
crooked  streets,  grotesque,  pointed  gables,  and  peaked  roofs 
wandering  into  a  bewildering  variety  of  outlines,  Nurem- 
berg still  ministers  to  that  passion  whereof  it  was  once  the 
chosen  seat-the  love  of  the  Beautiful.     Painting,  Poetry 
and  Sculpture  once  dwelt  here,  and  their  sign-manual  is 
Beauty-Beauty  in  one  of  her  wayward  moods,  it  is  true 
but  none  the  less  dear  to  those  who  love  her  under  all 
her  forms. 

The  only  objects  in  Nuremberg  that  appear  old  are  the 
tombstones.     Albert  Durer's  house,  on  the  hill,  under  the 
walls  of  the  Castle,  keeps  its  rich,  red  coloring,  its  steep 
gable  mounting  up  into  a  picturesque,  overhanging  balcony 
and  Its  windows  of  stained  glass,  as  if  he  were  still  within' 
ready  to  welcome  his  friend  WiUibald.    As  you  walk  the' 
streets,  you  think  of  him  as  a  hving  man ;  but  his  slab  in  the 
church-yard  of  St.  John  is  covered  with  the  moss  of  three 
hundred  years.     "  'Tis  Death  is  dead,  not  he."     Over  the 
door  of  Hans  Sachs's  dwelling  hangs  his  portrait,  with  the 
flowmg  white  beard  so  well  befitting  the  meister^anger  - 


-<§5&ll<feif^ 


A    WALK   FBOM   UElDELUKliG  TO   NUBiiMBKKG.  83 

and  if  you  go  there  at  mid-day,  you  may  partake  of  a  d?5h 
of  bratwurst  which  would  have  furnished  Ilaus  with  inspi- 
ration  for  at  least  six  odes.    In  the  court-yard  of  the  Castle 
there  is  a  mighty  lindeu-trce,  green  and  full  of  lusty  leaves, 
which  the  frost  seems  to  spare.     Seven  hundred  years  ago 
tliat  tree  was  planted  there  by  the  hand  of  the  Empress 
Kunigunde.    In  the  church  of  St.  Lorenz,  they  show  you 
the  renowned  pyx  by  Adam  Kraft  and  his  two  apprentices ; 
you  would  think  the  dust  of  their  chiselling  fresh  upon  it. 
Contemplate  its  glorious  workmanship ;  and  if  your  eyes 
do  not  fill  with  tears— spontaneous  tribute  to  that  Beauty 
which  is  a  perpetual  joy,  and  of  pity  for  its  creator,  who 
perished  in  obscurity  and  want— its  stony  leaves  and  blos- 
soms are  softer  than  your  nature. 

The  situation  of  the  city  is  peculiar,  and  in  the  highest 
degree  picturesque.  It  is  divided  by  the  river  Regnitz  into 
two  nearly  equal  parts,  caUed,  from  the  two  grand  churches 
they  contain,  the  Lorenz  side,  and  the  Sebald  side.  The 
river  washes  the  walls  of  the  houses,  and  is  spanned  by  a 
number  of  bridges,  one  of  which,  from  its  form,  is  named 
the  Rialto.  There  is  also  a  Bridge  of  Sighs,  leading  to  the 
prison.  A  number  of  miU-wheels  turn  in  the  stream, 
which  makes  its  entrance  into  and  exit  from  the  city 
through  arches  m  the  waUs.  The  Sebald  side  ascends 
towards  the  north,  and  you  climb  steep  streets  lined  with 
the  houses  of  the  old  patricians,  to  the  Castle,  which  is 
built  on  a  massive  sandstone  crag,  overhanging  the  city. 
The  battlements  command  wide  and  beautiful  views  on 
every  side.  On  the  morning  of  my  visit,  the  sky  was  clear 
and  soft,  and  I  could  sec  the  broad  meadows  stretching 


£  'J 


I 


11 

I! 


84 


AT   HOME   AND   ABEOAD. 


m 


hi-.:  I 


away  tOl  they  met  the  blue  Franconian  mountains  in  the 
north-east.     Below  me  yawned  the  great  moat,  fifty  feet 
deep  and  one  hundred  feet  wide,  still  surrounding  the  city 
waUs.    Prom  the  opposite  battlement,  the  city  sloped  to 
the  river,  but  rose  again  from  the  other  side— a  mass  of 
quaint  notched  gables,  sharp  roofs,  broicen  .vith  windows 
of  every  fashion,  turrets  and  Gothic  pinnacles,  shooting  up 
so  thickly  that  the  spires  of  St.  Sebald  and  St.  Lorenz 
seemed  but  older  plants  which  had  been  allowed  to  run  to 
seed.     They  blossomed  naturally  from  a  bed  of  such  archi- 
tecture.    The  four  round  towers  of  Albert  Durer,  in  their 
models  the  perfection  of  simple  strength,  mark  the  four 
points  of  the  compass.    Beyond  them,  and  over  the  wall 
and  moat,  and  scattered  buUding*  outside,  spreads  the 
fruitful  plain  of  Franconia. 

I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  in  detail  the  sights  of 
Nuremberg.     My  time  was  too  short  to  do  them  justice, 
yet  long  enough  to  receive  some  impressions  which  I  shall 
never  forget.     Of  course  I  visited  the  Rathhaus,  and  the 
Picture  Gallery,  where  I  was  most  struck  with  Albert 
Durer's  "St.  Peter;"  and  Ranch's  bronze  statue  .f  Durer 
himself;  and  the  Beautiful  Fountain,  a  specimen  of  the 
purest  Gothic,  which  furnished  the  idea  for  Sir  Walter 
Scott's  Monument  in 'Edinburgh ;  and  the  Little  Goose- 
herd,  a  cunning  fountain,  represonting  a  mannikin  with  two 
geese  under  his  arm;  and  the  Castle  Well,  cut  three  hun- 
dred feet  through  the  solid  lock ;   and  the  Gymnasium 
founded   by  Melancthon,   with   many  other  noteworthy 
buUdings  and  monuments.     The  church-yard  of  St.  John, 
outside  of  the  city  walls,  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable 


A   WALK   FKOM   UKIDETJIERG   TO   NCBEMBEEG. 


85 


i 


k 


cemeteries  in  Europe.    The  graves  are  ranged  in  rows,  and 
each  is  cohered  with  a  ponderous  slab  of  sandstone,  raised 
on  a  foundation,  and  regularly  numbered  from  1  to  about 
2,000.    They  nearly  all  date  beyond  the  last  century,  and 
some  are  so  old  a?  ^o  have  lost  every  trace  of  their  original 
inscriptions.     The  mods  has  eaten  into  their  crevices,  the 
sharp  corners  are  rounded  and  broken,  and  they  lie  as 
shapeless  as  so  many  boulders  left  by  the  Deluge.    Among 
them  I  found  the  restmg-place  of  Dttrer,  which  has  been 
carefully  restored ;  of  Hans  Sachs,  with  a  poor  spechnen 
of  his  poetry  upon  it ;  of  Peter  Vischer,  whereon  a  crown 
of  oak-leaves,  cast  there  many  days  before,  was  rotting  in 
the  rain  ;  of  Veit  Stoss ;  and  lastly,  of  the  good  Willibald 
Pirkheimer,  ever  to  be  remembered  as  Dttrer's  frieod.     A 
few  flowers  were  growing  rankly  about  the  corners  of  the 
stones,  but  so  desolated  and  ruined  is  the  aspect  of  the 
place,  that  even  without  the  prohibition  posted  up  at  the 
entrance  of  the  gate,  no  one  would  venture  to  pluck  them. 
The  last  visit  I  made  was  to  the  Church  of  St.  Lorenz — 
the  crown  of  all  that  Nuremberg  has  to  show.    It  is  one  of 
the  largest  Gothic  churches  in  Europe,  and  more  impres- 
sive than  any  I  have  seen,  except  St.  Ouen  in  Rouen, 
and  the  unfinished  cathedral  of  Cologne.     The  nave  is  320 
feet  in  length  and  86  in  height,  and  finished  in  a  style  so  rich 
and  harmonious   as  to  produce  the  finest  possible  effect. 
Unlike  the  minsters  of  Ulm  and  Strasbourg,  whose  impos- 
ing exteriors  promise  too  much,  St.  Lorenz  staitles  you 
with  a  grandeur  you  had  not  anticipated,  and  you  measure 
with  breathless  delight  the  perfect  symmetry  of  the  co- 
lumns, the  single  arch  spanning  the  nave,  and  the  beautiful 


86 


AT   UOM£   AND   ABKOAD. 


intricacy  of  the  laced  and  intertwined  ribs  of  the  chancel- 
roof.  You  follow  the  guide  from  pillar  to  pillar,  halting  to 
contemplate  the  works  of  Wohlgemuth,  of  DUrer,  of 
Vischer,  Veit  Stoss,  and  the  other  cunning  artists  of  that, 
day ;  but  when  you  reach  the  pyx  (house  containing  the 
sacramental  vessels)  of  Adam  Kraft,  there  you  wUl  stop, 
and  thencefijrth  the  church  will  contain  little  else  worth 
your  seeing. 

This  pyx  stands  beside  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  chancel, 
and  spires  upwards  like  a  fountam,  under  the  arch,  to  the 
height  of  more  than  sixty  feet.    It  is  of  pure  white  sand- 
stone, and  of  the  most  rare  and  wonderful  workmanship. 
The  house  containing  the  vessels  is  imbedded  m  an  arbor 
of  vines,  forming  leafy  grottoes,  with  niches  in  which  stand 
statues  of  the  Apostles.     The  Gothic  pinnacles  which  shoot 
up  through  this  canopy  of  foliage  bud  into  leafy  ornaments 
at  their  tops,  and  bend  over  and  wave  downwards  hke 
vines  swinging  in  the  air.     Upwards,  still  diminishing,  rises 
the  airy  tracery  of  the  spire,  with  spray-like  needles  leaping 
from  every  angle,  tiU  at  the  summit,  where  you  expect  the 
crowning  lightness  of  the  cross,  behold !  the  frail  stem  of 
stone  curves  like  a  flower-stalk,  and  hangs  in  the  air  a  last 
tendril  over  the  wondrous  arbor  out  of  which  it  grew. 
Grand  Adam  Kraft !  glorious  old  master !     God  grant  that 
this  beautiful  creation  sometimes  consoled  the  bitterness  cf 
thy  destitute  and  neglected  old  age,  and  that  the  sacra- 
ment of  that  Beauty,  of  which  this  was  but  a  faint  symbol, 
hallowed  thy  dying  hour  .* 

Our  conductor  through  the  church  was  a  girl  of  fifteen, 
whose  flushed  cheek  and  frequent  cough  gave  a  painful 


A   WALK   FEOH   HEIDKLBEUa  TO   NUKEMBEBO. 


87 


effect  to  the  sad,  slow  monotone  of  her  voice,  while  telling 
ua  of  Adam  Kraft,  as  we  stood  by  his  pyx :  how  he,  with 
his  apprentice  and  journeyman,  made  it  in  five  years,  and 
received  therefor  only  770  florins  (not  $300) ;  how  the 
people  had  no  faith  in  his  work,  but  beUeved  he  had  a 
secret  method  of  softening  the  stone  and  casting  it  into 
moulds;  and  how  it  was  examined  from  top  tj  bottom 
and  proved  to  be  really  chiselled.  She  pointed  to  the 
pedestal,  in  confirmation  of  the  story,  and  there,  sculp- 
tured with  their  own  hands,  the  figures  of  the  master 
and  his  two  associates,  kneeling,  upbore  the  weight  of  the 
structure.  A  quaint  fancy,  but  how  significant !  Adam's 
eyes  are  closed,  as  if  with  the  exertion,  and  his  face 
expresses  that  serene  patience  which  only  comes  from  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  Artist.  Here  the  apprentice  and  the 
journeyman,  who  wrought  with  an  equally  devoted  pur- 
pose, have  their  share  of  the  glory.  The  master  of  that 
day  was  too  pure  and  single-minded  in  his  devotion  to 
Art,  not  to  be  just.  There  was  then  no  monopoly  of  Fame 
in  a  great  name.  What  would  Kraft  and  Dtlrer  have 
thought  of  the  romances  of  Dumas  and  the  battle-pieces 
of  Vernet  ? 


IX. 


PANORAMA  OF  THE  UPPER  DANUBE. 


[OCTOBEE,   1861.] 


While  plodding  along  the  highway  from  Vienna  to  Linz, 
in  the  summer  of  1845,  I  frequently  saw  the  Danube 
gleaming  to  the  noHhward  in  the  lap  of  its  magnificent 
valley.  I  crossed  it  afterwards  at  Ulm,  where  it  comes 
fresh  from  its  fountains,  and  parted  from  it  with  my  love 
for  its  name  and  associations  strengthened  by  the  slight 
acquaintance.  But  witlin  the  last  five  days  I  have  sailed 
four  hundred  miles  on  its  breast,  and  felt  its  might  and 
majesty  as  never  before.  It  has  completely  displaced  the 
Rhine,  v,hich  I  had  held  to  be  without  peer  among  Euro- 
pean rivers ;  and  as  this  preference  is  contrary  to  the 
general  opinion  (probably  because  one  person  visits  the 
Danube  where  ten  visit  the  Rhine),  a  rapid  sketch  of  the 
ecenery  from  Donauworth  to  Vienna  may  help  to  justify  it. 


I 


PANOEAMA   OP  THE  UPPEB   'j^N^BK. 


89 


The  Danube  is  a  lordly  river.    It  does  not  dnp  from  t'.ie 
edges  of  the  glaciers,  like  the  Rhine,  the  Rhone,  and  ihe 
Po,  but  gushes  at  once  to  life,  a  lusty  st;  -am,  in  the  garden 
of  a  Prince.     Nor  does  the  flood,  in  its  waxing  course, 
sully  the  nobility  of  its  birth.     Oae  race  and  one  langvage 
alone  cannot  measure  its  extenc,  but  from  its  cradle  in  the 
Black  Forest  till  it  mingles  with  the  Euxine,  it  draws  its 
waters  from  Suabia  and  Bavaria  and  Franconia ;  from  the 
meadows  of  the  Engaddin,  in  the  Upper  Alps;  i.m  the 
hills  of  Bohemia ;  from  Tyrol  and  Illy.-ia ;  from  Hungary 
and  Servia;  and  from  the  lands  of  the  Turk  and  tlie  Wal- 
lachian.    Its  youth  is  crystal-clear,  rapid,  and  bears  the 
aroma  of  the  Northern  fir ;  its  old  dge  stagnates  in  the 
lazy  languor  of  the  Orient.    It  is  like  one  of  those  Vikings 
of  the  eighth  century,  who  went  with  the  frost  and  fire  of 
Iceland  to  wallow  in  the  luxury  of  the  Byzantine  Court. 
It  hears  the  hymns  of  Luther  sung  in  the  places  where 
Luther  dwelt,  and  it  hears  the  muezzin  call  from  his  mina- 
ret the  name  of  Mohammed. 

But  its  historical  interest !— What  grander  associations 
than  AttUa  and  his  Huns,  or  the  Dacians  before  them  I 
And  is  not  Belgrave's  stirring  name,  and  John  Sobieski's 
victory  before  the  walls  of  Vienna,  something  to  remember? 
Coeur  de  Lion's  prison  looked  on  the  river ;  and  its  waves 
are  stiU  lighted  with  the  splendor  of  the  Niebelungen  Lay. 
"What  has  the  Rhine  to  surpass  these?  It  has  much,  to  be 
sure :  a  tower  on  every  headbnd,  and  a  legend  to  every 
tower.  It  sings  a  legend  throughout  the  length  of  its 
Highlands— a  powerful  melody,  like  that  of  the  Lorely, 
but  no  grander  strain.     The  Rhine  is  legendary;   the 


90 


AT  UOAiK  AXD   ABROAD. 


Danube  is  epic.    Its  associations  have  a  broad  and  majes- 
tic  caaracter;   they  are  connected  with  historical  move- 
ments more  vast,  and  lead  us  back  to  more  remote  and 
obscure  periods.     The  stroam  itself,  as  it  flows  with  a 
full  current,  now  losing  its  way  on  intermiuable  plains,  now 
plunging  into  mountain  defiles,  where  there  seems  no  hope 
of  outlet,  has  something  vague  and  undefinable  in  its  expres- 
sion.    The  rums  which   crown  its  banks   are  grim  and 
silent;   they  have  lost  their  histories,  or  refuse  to  give 
them  up.    The  wild  woods  of  the  Middle  Ages  still  keep 
possession  of  vaUe^sthat  come  down  from  the  mysterious 
Bohmer-Wald,  and  as  you  look  up  their  silent  depths,  home 
of  the  stag  and  wild  bear,  you  think  of  the  wehr-wolves 
with  a  slight  shiver  in  your  blood. 

But  I  am  giving  you  the  offect  of  the  "Danube,  before  I 
have  shown  you  its  landscapes.    Take,  with  me,  an  affection- 
ate  leave  of  Nuremberg.     It  rains  dismally,  and  the  high 
and  barren  watershed  of  Middle  Europe,  over  which  the 
ilailroad  passes,  is  fast  becoming  a  quagmire.    The  plains 
are  drowned  with  six  months  of  incessant  moisture,  and  the 
low  hills  of  ragged  fir-trees  seem  slowly  sinking  into  them. 
We  pass  numerous  dull  villages  and  two  or  three  tolerable 
towns,  and  after  more  than  fifty  milea  of  such  travel,  strike 
an  affluent  of  the  Danube,  and  descend  with  it  tlirough  the 
hills  to  Donauworth.     This  town  is  of  no  note,  except  as 
being  the  head  of  navigation  on  the  river.    We  did  not 
even   enter  it,  but  took  lodgings  in  "The  Crab,"  which 
stands   by  the   water-side,   and  which   gave   us,  without 
lifting  our  heads  from  the  pillows,  a  night-view  of  the  plain 
towards  Ulm,  and  the  swollen  flood  flashing  in  fitful  gleams 


I 


PANORAMA  OF  THE  UPPER  DANUBE.  91 

of  moonlight.    In  the  morning  we  took  the  steamer  for 
Regensburg. 

The  arrowy  river  swung  our  bow  around  with  its  course, 
and  carried  us  rapidly  onwards,  through  vast,  marshy  flats, 
thicUy  set  with  willows,  where,  at  times,  we  were  in  a^ 
complete  a  solitude  as  the  untenanted  banks  of  our  West- 
ern rivers  exhibit.     The  current  is  exceedingly  tortuous, 
and  we  frequently  faced  all  points  of  the  compass,  in  going 
a  single  league.     On  the  northern  side,  a  chain  of  rolling 
hills,  the  first  terraces  of  the  central  table-land,  sometimes 
approach  the  river,  but  do  not  add  to  the  amenity  of  its 
landscapes.    They  are  covered  i^-ith  a  scattering  growth  of 
beech  and  oak,  cleared  away  in  places  for  grain,  or  planted 
with  lean-looking  vineyards;  still,  there  is  something  fine 
and  bold  in  their  outlines,  especiaUy  when,  on  turning  a 
corner,  we  see  the  next  headland  before  us,  stretching  far 
into  the  blue  distance.     On  our  right  appears  the  Bonau- 
moo8,  a  morass  which  fills  all  our  southern  horizon.    It  is 
drained  by  132  canals,  but  the  river  is  now  so  high  that  the 
current  in  these  sluices  flows  backwards  and  fills  them. 

We  pass  Ingolstadt,  a  town  surrounded  by  a  massive 
wall,  a  deep  moat,  and  outworks  of  most  ponderous  charac- 
ter— all  as  new  and  shining  as  the  helmets  of  the  Bavarian 
soldiers  on  guard.  Why  this  fortification  is  wanted  now, 
and  why  it  should  be  built  in  the  centre  of  a  plain,  where  it 
commands  nothing  and  protects  nothing,  is  about  as  clear 
to  me  as  to  the  aforesaid  soldiers.  But  before  I  have  fairly 
settled  the  question,  we  are  among  the  mountains  again. 
Here  they  are,  steep  and  abrupt ;  woods  of  autumnal  brown 
and  purple,  relieved  by  the  dark-green  of  the  fir,  wave  from 


02 


Ar   HOVE   AND   ABnOAD. 


their  precipices  of  white  Umestone  rock,  and  soften  their 
outlines  against  the  clear  sky.    A  large  white  Benedictine 
cloister,  under  the  shadow  of  the  cliffs,  now  comes  into 
view :  but  what  is  this  ?    The  Danube  is  at  an  end,  and  we 
are  drifting  with  the  furious  flood  full  against  a  crag  two 
hundred  feet  in  height.    A  rough  image  of  the  Madonna 
looks  out  from  a  niche  scooped  in  the  rock,  and  the  crew 
take  off  their  hats  as  we  shoot  past.    Lo !  a  miracle  has 
been  wrought;  the  terrible  wall  has  been  cleft  at  right 
angles,  and  our  boat  turns  so  sharply  into  the  narrow  strait, 
that  the  giddy  summit  overhangs  our  deck. 

Crash  I  goes  a  report  like  the  peal  of  a  thousand  cannon, 
but  it  is  only  one,  which  the  captain  has  ordered  to  be  fired 
for  our  astonishment.     The  sound  roUs  down  the  chasm, 
striking  heavily  on  the  perpendicular  walls,  as  if  the  Indian's 
Bird  of  Thunder  were  caught  here,  and  flapping  his  wings 
in  a  vain  effort  to  escape.    He  reaches  the  top  at  last,  and 
sullenly  soars  off  into  silence.     StUl  downwards  we  speed 
with   the  foaming  river,  almost  grazing  the  sides  of  our 
passage-way  as  we  clear  its  sudden  windmgs,  till  at  length 
a  wider  reach  in  the  mountains  opens  before  us,  and  we  take 
a  long  breath  of  relief.    All  through  these  canons  of  the 
Dauube,  the  rocks  are  pierced  with  bolts  ne  .r  the  water, 
from  which  hang  iron  rings,  used  by  the  boatmen  in  their 
slow  and  difficult  ascent. 

The  great  plain  of  Bavaria,  extending  beyond  Munich  to 
the  Alps,  was  evidently  at  one  time  the  bed  of  an  inland 
sea,  whose  waters  at  last  tore  this  passage  through  the 
mountains.  The  rocks  exhibit  the  same  appearances  as 
those  of  the  Rhine  at  Bingen,  and  the  Potomac  at  Harper's 


PANORAMA.   OF  TIIK   UPPKR   DAXUBX. 


9S 


Ferry,  but  the  pass  is  mucli  more  narrow,  rugged,  and  pecu- 
liar than  either.  Beyond  it,  the  mountains  give  the  Dauulxj 
room,  and  his  vexed  current  takes  a  broader  sweep,  and 
rolls  with  a  more  majestic  motion.  As  we  approach  Ratis- 
bon  (Regensburg)  they  disappear  from  the  southern  bank* 
and  leave  the  city  seated  on  the  plain. 

At  Ratisbon,  which  we  reached  at  four  o'clock  in  the  af- 
ternoon, we  remained  the  following  day,  in  order  to  visit  the 
Walhalla.  This  celebrated  edifice,  built  by  the  Ex-King 
Louis  of  Bavaria,  stands  on  the  summit  of  a  hill  overlooking 
the  river,  about  six  miles  to  the  eastward  of  the  city.  The 
morning  brought  with  it  a  dense  fog,  through  which  we 
felt  our  way  to  the  village  of  Donaustauf.  The  Walhaba 
was  not  visible,  but  some  peasant  women  showed  us  a  foot- 
path leading  up  to  a  church  on  the  hill.  There  were 
shrines  on  the  way,  and  we  were  obliged  to  step  carefully 
past  several  persons  who  were  ascending  on  their  knees. 
Behind  the  church,  the  path  plunged  into  a  wood  of  young 
oaks,  redolent  of  moist  autumnal  fragrance.  After  half  a 
mile  of  gradual  ascent,  we  issued  from  the  trees  upon  a 
space  of  level  ground,  on  which  stood  the  "Walhalla,  loom- 
ing grandly  through  the  up-rolling  mists.  I  deem  it  fortu- 
nate that  my  first  view  was  from  the  summit  of  the  hill,  on 
a  level  with  the  base  of  the  building.  Seen  thus,  it  will  be 
accepted,  without  hesitation,  as  among  the  most  admirable 
architectural  works  of  modem  times.  It  is  closely  modelled 
after  the  Parthenon,  and  therefoxe  has  not  the  merit  of 
originality— at  least,  externally.  Its  material  is  white  Al- 
pine marble,  brought  from  the  Untersberg,  where,  according 
to  the  old  legend,  Charlemagne  sits  with  his  Paladins  await- 


I 


94 


AT   HOMB   AND   ABROAD. 


ing  the  deliverance  of  Germany.     Schwanthaler's  colossal 
group  of  the  victory  of  Herman  over  the  Romans,  fills  the 
pediment  of  the  northern  front,  which  overlooks  a  lovely 
green  valley.    An  allegorical  group  by  the  same  artist,  from 
designs  by  Ranch,  occupies  the  southern  front,  which  is  raised 
on  vast  foundation  terraces  of  masonry,  120  feet  in  height. 
The  Walhalla  stands  in  the  centre  of  an  arc  of  hills 
washed  by  the  Danube,  and  looks  beyond  his  waters  and 
over  the  plains  of  Bavaria,  to  the  snowy  lines  of  the  Noric 
Alps.    Its  position  is  iinely  chosen,  but  the  effect  of  the 
superb  building  is  painfully  marr  -d  by  the  clumsy  mass  of 
foundation  work  on  which  it  stands.    The  introduction  of 
oblique  lines  of  stairway,  which  as  you  descend  rise  beyond 
the  terrace'^  against  which  they  are  built,  disturbs  the  im- 
posing contrast  of  the  simple  uprights  and  horizontals. 
The  temple  itself  is  dwarfed,  and  the  eye  is  drawn  away 
from  its  airy  grace  and  symmetry  to  rest  on  the  blank,  glar- 
ing, dead-walls  which  uphold  it.    The  interior  is  finished  in 
the  chromatic  style  so  lavishly  employed  by  the  ancient 
Greeks,  s  d  dazzles  one  with  its  gilded  roof,  its  mosaic  floor, 
and  its  walls  of  precious  marbles.     It  forms  a  single  hall, 
between  two  and  three  hundred  feet  in  length  and  nearly 
sixty  in  height.    The  Avails  are  broken  by  two  heavy  pilaster- 
like projections,  on  each  side,  upon  which  stand  statues  of 
the  Northern  Valkyrie  or  Fates,  holding  on  their  heads  the 
bases  of  the  arches  supporting  the  iron  roof.    The  general 
impression  produced  is  one  of  great  richness  and  splendor, 
with  a  dash  of  barbaric  extravagance.    The  fourteen  statues 
of  the  Fates,  upholding  the  roof,  are  painted  and  gilded, 
and  remind   one   rather   too  strongly   of  Dresden   china. 


PANOKAMA   OP  THE   UPPER   DANUBE. 


95 


Around  the  sides  of  the  hall  the  busts  of  ninety-eight  distin- 
guished  Germans,  executed  in  Carrara  marble,  are  placed 
on  separate  brackets,  while  a  frieze  of  the  same  material 
above  them,  typifies  the  history  of  German  civilization. 

The  fine  harmony  of  the  coloring,  the  soft  gleam  of  the 
polished  marbles,  and  the  imposing  dimensions  of  the  hall, 
give  it  an  eflfect  which  at  first  bewilders  the  judgment,  but 
cannot  keep  it  captive.  The  Parthenon  is  not  adapted  to  a 
German  Walhalla.  The  pure  and  perfect  simplicity  of  Gre- 
cian Art  does  not  represent  the  exuberant  German  mind,  so 
rich  in  its  fancy,  so  subtle  in  its  imagination,  so  profound 
and  far-thoughted,  yet  always  serious  m  its  expression, 
always  removed  from  the  grace,  the  poise,  the  wondrous 
balance  and  symmetry  of  the  Greek  Apollo.  Nor  are  the 
natural  adjun-its  of  the  temple  more  fitting.  The  sombre 
fir,  or  even  the  oak,  is  too  stern  to  grow  in  its  shadow ;  the 
clouds  and  storms,  the  pale  sky  of  the  North,  arc  too  cold 
to  be  its  background.  It  should  stand  high  on  a  headland, 
above  a  sparkling  sea,  with  the  blue  of  a  summer  noon 
behind  it ;  where  the  spiry  cypress  might  mock  its  shafts, 
and  the  palm  lift  beside  them  a  more  graceful  capital. 

As  a  great  work,  the  Walhalla  is  a  failure  ;  as  a  great 
copy,  we  shall  accept  it,  and  accord  all  honor  to  the  patri- 
otic spirit  which  consecrates  it.  The  busts  are  generally 
well  executed,  but  the  six  statues  of  Ranch— different  embo- 
diments of  Victory,  or  Triumph— belong  to  the  finest  speci- 
mens  of  modern  art.  Half  the  busts  are  those  of  Dukes 
or  Electors,  whose  names  are  not  familiarly  known  outside 
of  Germany ;  poets,  artists,  scholars,  and  composers  make 
up  the  other  half.    Schiller  is  there  (and  hia  head  would 


96 


AT   UOilE  AND   ABROAD. 


gill  I 


not  be  out  of  place  in  the  true  Parthenon)  between  Haydn 
and  the  dry,  contracted,  almost  idiotic  little  head  of  Kant. 
Goethe,  Herder,  Leasing,  and  even  BUrger,  have  a  place. 
But  I  looked  with  the  most  Uvely  satisfaction  at  the  head 
of  Luther,  which  was  at  first  omitted  (Bavaria  being 
Catholic),  but  which  the  universal  outcry  of  all  Germany 
forced  the  King  to  restore.  And  not  only  Luther,  but 
that  fiery  reformer,  Ulrich  von  Hutten,  whose  motto,  "  JcA 
ha6^3  ffewafft"  (I  have  dared  it),  accompanies  his  bust. 
Melancthon  is  still  wanting,  though  Erasmus  finds  a  place. 
Ratisbon  is  a  quiet  city,  v  tth  a  beautiful  old  Cathedral 
and  pleasant  promenades.  id  no  curiosity  to  see  the 

Chamber  of  Torture  under  the  Rathhaus,  in  spite  of  the 
soUcItations  of  four  valets-de-place,  who  wished  to  earn  a 
fee  by  accompanying  me.     With  German  caution  the  porter 
roused  us  at  four  o'clock  in  order  that  we  might  leave  by 
half-past  five.     We  wandered  to  the  boat  shivering  in  the 
mist,  and  sat  there  four  mortal  hours  before  the  Captain 
ventured  to  start.    The  hills  were  shrouded,  and  the  Walhalla 
was  invisible  as  we  passed,  but  soon  the  Danube  wandered 
out  upon  a  plain,  which  his  current,  brimmed  to  the  top  of 
the  banks,  threatened  to  overflow.    Towards  noon  the  spires 
of  Straubhig  were  close  at  hand,  but  so  remarkably  crooked 
is  the  river,  that  we  chasseed  backwards  and  forwards  be- 
fore the  town  for  nearly  an  hour,  before  dancing  up  to  it. 
As  we  passed  under  the  bridge  I  thought  of  the  beautiful 
Agnes  Bernauer,  the  wife  of  Duke  Albert  of  Bavaria,  who 
was  thrown  from  it  into  the  Danube  during  her  husband's 
absence,  by  his  savage  father's  order. 

Now  the  blue  mountains  of  the  Bvhmer-  Wold  or  Bohe- 


PANORAMA   OF  THE   UPPEE  DANUBE. 


91 


mian  Forest,  rose  on  our  left,  but  the  high,  wooded  summits 
leaned  to  each  other  and  shut  us  out  from  a  look  into  their 
wild  recesses.    In  one  place  only  they  touched  the  river. 
Elsewhere  a  chain  of  lower  hut  not  less  picturesque  hills 
kept  them  in  the  rear.    Soon  after  leaving  the  plain  we 
reach  Passau,  the  last  Bavarian  town,  built  on  a  bold  height 
at  the  junction  of  the  Danube  and  the  Inn.    Here  we  touch 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  start  for  Linz,  as  the  passengers 
suppose,  although  it  is  late  in  the  afternoon.     The  scenery 
is  strikingly  bold  and  beautiful.    The  only  dwellings  we  see 
are  the  wooden  cottages  of  the  woodmen  and  the  herdsmen : 
here  and  there  a  slope  of  pasture-ground  breaks  the  mono- 
tony of  the  unpruned  forests.    A  rosy  sunset  colors  the  dis- 
tant peaks  of  the  Bohmer-Wald,  and  the  gorges  through 
which  we  pass  are  growing  dark  with  twilight.    A  rude  vU- 
lage  appears,  in  a  nook  of  the  mountains  ;  the  steamer's 
gun  is  fired,  and  we  swing  around  to  the  bank  and  make  fast, 
for  the  Captain  is  afraid  of  whiripools  and  8ther  terrors. 

As  we  step  ashore  we  are  met  by  beggars  and  Austrian 
Custom-House  officers.  While  the  latter  are  politely  ex- 
plaimng  to  us  that  we  must  leave  all  our  baggage  on  board, 
the  church-bell  chimes  vespers.  Officers  and  beggars  take 
off  their  hats  and  stand  silent,  repeating  their  prayers. 
There  is  a  xoirthshaua  on  the  bank  with  a  landlady  as  thick 
as  a  barrel,  who  gives  us  each  a  double  bed  (the  upper  bed 
much  larger  than  the  under)  and  half  a  pint  of  water,  to 
wash  our  faces  in  the  morning.  Our  room  secured,  we  go 
down  to  the  guests'  room  and  order  supper.  Tlie  village 
magistrate  and  two  priosts  and  a  number  of  Austrian  sol- 
diers, take  their  places  at  our  table,  and  drink  large  draughts 

5 


\'i 


AT  UOMK    aN1>  ABUOAD 


I;  i:r* 


^lii 


of  "nftMty  porter,"  lu  I  hoard  it  callo.l  by  n'cockuoy  in  Nu- 
romlwrg.  Tlio  smoko  hooii  hocomes  ho  tliick,  and  the  to- 
baooo  is  of  Huch  rank  AuHtrian  growtli,  that  we  retire  to  our 
Binofhoring  hwU.  The  Hteauier's  cannon  rouses  us  at  lour 
o'clock  ;  wo  M'li  off  at  daylijjflit,  sweeping  tlown  between 
the  oald,  dark  mountains,  aiul  in  spito  of  two  iiours'  delay 
on  account  of  fogs,  succeed  in  reaching  l.inz  by  ton 
t)'clock. 

Nothing  could  be  more  gentle  and  agreeable  than  the  Cus- 
tom-l louse  juul  passport  examination,  soothed  as  it  was  by 
tlu»  extnnne  politeness  of  the  oflicials.  Austria  received  us 
as  tenderly  as  a  mother  wouKl  receive  her  returning  children ; 
and  so  far  as  concerns  hor  pe«)ple,  we  profited  by  the  change. 
The  Southern  warmth,  the  grace  and  suavity  of  the  Aus- 
trian character,  impress  one  very  plcasaiu,y  atler  leaving  the 
muddy-headed  Havarians.  We  were  obliged  to  renjain  till 
next  morning  in  Linz ;  but  the  soft,  warm  air,  the  gay  Ita- 
lian aspect  of  tifc  streets,  and  the  beauty  of  the  surroundmg 
Bcenery  reconciled  us  to  the  delay.  lJe8ide:s  from  the  . 
parapet  of  the  8c«hlossberg,  did  wo  not  liail  the  airy 
ranges  of  the  Noric  and  Styrian  Alps? 

At  last,  however,  after  losing  three  hours  in  waiting  for 
the  io^  to  disperse,  wo  are  off  for  Vienna.  The  sun  comes 
out  bright  and  warm  over  the  thousjmd  islands  m  the  channel 
of  the  Djumbe.  We  aro  a  motley  crew :  three  Russians ;  an 
AmericHn,  fresh  from  Moscow,  :md  on  bis  way  to  Poland  ;  a 
Sv>oteh  physician;  an  Austrian,  whom  I  take  to  be  a  secret 
spy,  because  he  has  a  bneaking  face,  and  talks  in  whispers 
about  Hungary ;  and  a  Carmelite  aionk,  who  is  the  very 
pictare  of  jolly  humor  aijd  good  hx'mg.    The  brbk  air  and 


PANORAMA   OF  THE   VPPRB  DANUBE.  99 

rapid  motion  give  us  an  api)etite,  and  we  are  not  sorry  that 
dinner  is  ready  at  twelve  o'clock.    Before  we  have  finished 
three  of  the  ten  courses,  we  notice  through  the  cabin  win- 
dows that  we  have  passed  the  rich   meadow-laods  and 
are  among  the  forests  and  hills.    The  monk,  whose  capacious 
girdle  is  getting  tight,  is  anxious  we  should  not  lose  the 
best  points  of  the  scenery ;  and,  as  we  shoot  under  the  Cas- 
tle of  Grein,  says  hastily :  "  I  think  the  gentlemen  ought  now 
to  go  on  deck."     We  rush  up  stairs  bareheaded,  the  monk 
rolls  after  .is,  and  the  rest  of  the  company  foUow.     The  Da- 
nube is  «hut  in  among  the  hiUs;  a  precipitous  crag,  crowned 
with  a  ruin,  rises  in  front,  and  the  monk  saye  we  shall  pass 
behind  it,  but  wo  do  not  believe  him.     Nevertheless,  the 
current  carries  us  onward  like  the  wind  and  we  shoot  into  a 
gateway  scarcely  wider  than  our  boat,  down  a  roaring  rapid. 
The  crag  and  the  ruin  are  now  behind  us,  but  there  are  two 
others  in  front.    Between  them  the  river  turns  sharply  round 
a  ledge  of  rocks,  and  boils  in  a  foaming  whirlpool.    This  is 
the  celebrated  W^riei,  the  Charybdis  of  the  Upper  Danube. 
Our  strong  steamer  walks  straight  through  its  centre,  but 
slightly  shaken  by  the  agitated  waters,  and,  satisfied  that 
we  have  done  justice  to  the  exciting  passage,  we  go  below 
to  finish  our  dinner. 

For  nearly  fifty  miles  further,  our  course  lies  among  the 
mountains.  From  the  summit  to  the  water's  edge  they  are 
mantled  with  forests,  broken  here  and  there  by  cliffs  and 
jagged  walls  of  granite.  Somtiraes  a  little  village  finds  place 
at  the  entrance  of  a  side-valley,  or  a  grim  ruin  is  held  against 
the  sky  by  a  peak  which  chaUenges^access,  but  the  general 
aspect  is  wild,  subUme,  and  lonely.    Here,  again,  I  found  the 


100 


AT  HOMS  AND   ABROAD. 


■  m 


Danube  grander  than  the  Rhine.  The  mountains  are  infi- 
nitely liner  in  their  native  clothing  of  forests,  rough  though 
it  be,  than  in  their  Rhenish  veneering  of  vine-terraces, 
through  which  their  crags  of  sterile  rock  show  with  the 
effect  of  a  garment  out  at  the  knees  and  elbows.  The  hills 
of  the  Danube  wear  their  forests  of  pine  and  larch  and  oak 
as  Attila  might  have  worn  his  lion's  hide. 

As  we  pass  the  magnificent  monastery  of  Molk,  our  Car- 
melite talks  juicily  of  the  glorious  wines  in  the  cellar,  and 
the  good  dinners  which  the  Benedictines  enjoy  within  its 
walls.  He  tells  of  the  hills  in  Hungary  and  Moravia  where 
the  best  wines  grow,  and  his  eyes  are  still  sparkling  with 
the  remembrance  of  them  as  we  reach  the  shattered  crags 
of  Dtlrrenstein.  We  look  up  at  the  crumbling  tower  in 
which  Richard  of  the  Lion  Heart  was  imprisoned,  and  won- 
der on  which  side  of  it  stood  Blondel,  when  he  sang  the 
lay  which  discovered  the  royal  captive.  We  feel  our  blood 
grow  warm  and  our  hearts  beat  faster,  as  we  think  of  that 
story  of  faithful  love.  But  the  boat  speeds  on  and  brings 
us  to  Stein,  where  we  leave  the  mountains,  and  leave,  alas  ! 
our  ruddy  Carmelite.  The  best  of  wines  be  poured  out  to 
him,  wherever  he  goes  ! 

The  sun  is  just  sinking  into  a  bed  of  molten  crimson  and 
yellow  and  amber-green,  as  we  reach  Tuln.  Vienna  is  but 
an  hour  distant,  and  the  twilight  is  long  and  clear,  but  the 
captain  says  stop,  and  we  stop,  heartily  wishing  ourselves 
in  an  American  boat,  with  an  American  captain,  "  bound 
to  put  her  through  by  daylight."  We  are  indebted  to  the 
influence  of  a  young  officer,  in  getting  a  bad  supper  from 
an  uncivil  landlady  on  shore,  and  go  back  to  the  boat,  where 


VANOBAilX   OF  THB  UPPBK  DANUBE. 


101 


we  lie  all  night  in  the.  cabin  with  aching  bones,  and  a  child's 
wooden  stool  for  a  pillow. 

In  the  morning  an  hour's  steaming  brought  us  to  Nuss- 
dorf,  a  village  about  three  miles  from  the  city,  where  we 
were  landed  and  left  to  shift  for  ourselves.  Four  of  us 
hired  a  fiacre  and  started  with  our  baggage.  A  certificate 
given  us  at  Linz  saved  us  the  trouble  of  examination,  and 
we  were  not  asked  for  our  passports. 


X. 


THE  ROAD  FROM  VIENNA  TO  TRIESTE. 


[1861   AND   186T.] 


r 


Starting  from  Vienna  alone,  on  my  way  to  the  Orient,  I 
took  my  place  in  the  afternoon  train  for  Gloggnitz,  at  the 
foot  of  the  Semmering  Alp.    The  level  basin  of  the  Danube, 
at  first  barren,  but  afterwards  covered  with  vineyards  and 
maize-fields,  extended  wide  on  the  left;    on  the  right, 
veiled  in  clouds,  ran  the  ranges  of  the  Styrian  Alps.    After 
passing  Neustadt,  forty  miles  from  Vienna,  one  of  my 
neighbors  directed  my  attention  to  a  spire  which  marked 
the  position  of  a  village  about  two  miles  to  the  eastward. 
That  village,  he  said,  was  in  Hungary,  and  so  also  was  a 
bold  wooded  ridge— one  of  the  last  spurs  of  the  great  Alpine 
chain-which  rose  behmd  it.    This  ridge  gradually  ap- 
proached  us  on  the  left,  and  the  plain  by  degrees  narrowed 
into  a  valley.    The  beautiful  ^aacyards  which  covered  the 


-^ '^^ 


THE   ROAD   FBOM   VIENNA   TO  TRIESTE. 


103 


)        1 

I 


slopes  of  the  mountains  now  gave  place  to  woods  of  fir  and 
cliffs  of  naked  rock,  and  finally,  as  twilight  came  on  to 
deepen  their  sombre  hue,  we  reached  Gloggnitz,  at  that 
time  the  terminus  of  the  railroad. 

[The  road  was  completed  throughout  from  Vienna  to 
Trieste  in  185Y,  and  the  transit  from  the  Danube  to  the 
Adriatic,  a  distance  of  about  350  miles,  is  now  made  by 
the  express  trains  in  sixteen  hours  and  a  half.  Many  years 
have  been  employed  in  surmounting  the  two  chief  difficulties 
on  this  route — the  passage  of  the  Semmering  Alp  and  of 
the  high  Carinthian  table-land,  both  of  which  are  great 
triumphs  of  engineering.  The  first  is  a  bold  spur  of  the 
Styrian  Alps,  dividing  the  waters  of  the  Danube  from 
those  of  the  Drave.  After  ascending  a  long,  sloping  val- 
ley, the  road  boldly  takes  the  mountain  side,  which  it 
climbs  by  a  series  of  zigzag  grades,  the  heaviest  of  which 
arc  upwards  of  140  feet  to  the  mile.  Near  the  summit, 
3,000  feet  above  the  cea,  the  road  skirts  a  terrific  gorge, 
through  galleries  hewn  in  the  solid  rock,  and  by  bridges 
thrown  across  the  lateral  ravines.  The  descent  on  the 
southern  side  into  the  valley  of  the  Mur,  a  tributary  of 
the  Drave,  is  much  more  gradual.  The  distance  from 
Gloggn-tz  to  Mtlrzzubchlag,  by  the  roa'"'  is  thirty  miles, 
but  less  than  fifteen  in  a  straight  line.  The  cost  of  the 
work  is  said  to  have  been  upwards  of  ^10,000,000.  The 
passage  of  the  Semmering,  however,  is  not  a  more  remark- 
able undertaking  than  that  of  the  AUeghanies,  on  the 
Baltimore  and  Ohio  Road,  or  some  of  the  sections  on  the 
Pennsylvania  Central,  and  New  York  and  Erie  lines.  The 
heaviest  grades  on  these  roads  are,  I  believe,  respectively 


104 


AT   HOMB   AND   ABROAD. 


120, 103,  and  98  feet  to  the  mUe,  though  there  are  a  few- 
rods  on  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  which  reach  140  feet. 
The  engineers  who  built  the  track  over  the  Semmerin'^ 
first  visited  the  latter  road,  to  which  belongs  the  credit 
of  inaugurating  mountam  grades.] 

At  Gloggnitz  I  was  obliged  to  wait  untU  midnight  for  tne 
stage  over  the  mountains  to  MUrzzuschlag.    A  handsome 
Slave,  whose  acquamtance  I  had  made  in  the  car,  accompa- 
nied me  to  a  cafo,  where  he  tooh  supper  with  me,  before 
going  to  his  home,  a  few  miles  further.    In  the  warmth  of 
his  heart,  he  wanted  me  to  go  with  him,  and  spend  the 
night  under  his  roof.    He  had  the  most  amiabh  wife  in  the 
world,  and  a  darling  little  boy,  the  very  pearl  of  all  infants, 
only  four  months  old.    Before  he  was  married,  he  was  very 
fond  of  dogs,  but  now  they  disgusted  him  :  one  child  was 
worth  a  mUlion  dogs.    And  then  followed  the  whole  his- 
tory of  his  love  and  courtship,  so  naive,  so  simple,  and 
told  with  such  delightful  frankness,  that  my  heart  over- 
flow d  towards  the  good  Slave.    At  parting,  I  gave  him  mv 
hand  and  r  silent  blessing  on  his  honest  and  confiding 
nature. 

When  one  is  obliged  to  wait  at  night  in  the  barren  room 
of  an  inn,  the  hours  are  dreary  enough.   They  had  an  end 
howeve>-  and  I  crept  mto  a  small  stage,  with  three  Gerl 
mans,  who  instantly  insisted  on  closing  all  the  windows 
and  lightmg  their  pipes.    I  like  the  Germans  most  heartily 
in  many  respects,  and  I  love  their  land  next  to  my  own     I 
can  sleep  under  their  big  feather-beds,  and  eat  their  hetero- 
geneous dinners,  and  bear  with  patience  their  everlasting 
delays:  but  I  cannot  tolerate  their  inveterate  dread  of 


I 


THE  BOAO  FBOM   VIKIfNA  TO  TBISSTK. 


105 


,: 


fresh  water  and  fresh  air.  Except  Vienna,  the  German 
cities  are  shockingly  deficient  in  baths,  and  even  in  the 
best  hotels,  a  small  decanter  of  water  is  thought  to  be 
amply  sufficient  for  one's  ablutions.  My  companions  in 
the  stage  had  each  an  overcoat  and  cloak,  rnd  yet  they 
persisted  in  keeping  the  windows  feet  during  four  suffocat- 
ing hours.  Of  the  Pass  of  the  Semmering  I  can  only  say 
that  we  went  very  slowly  up-hill  one-half  of  the  way,  and 
very  fast  down-hill  the  other  half  I  rubbed  off  the  moist 
coating  of  the  panes,  and  looked  out  occasionally.  The 
moon  gave  a  straggling  light,  and  I  saw  some  black,  ghostly 
inountains  near  at  hand,  but  not  with  sufficient  distinctness 
to  separate  their  forms. 

We  left  Murzzuschlag  at  dawn,  and  sped  down  the  valley 
of  the  Mur,  the  right  arm  of  the  Drave.     We  were  now 
deep  in  the  rough,  picturesque  old  province  of  Steyermark. 
In  the  early  dusk  the  blue  and  red  flames  flickered  from 
the  chimneys  of  furnaces  in  the  valleys,  but  as  it  grew 
light,  quaint  cottages  of  home-like  aspect  appeared  on  the 
slopes,  and  the  black  woods  of  fir  higher  up  were  broken 
with  brilliant  patches  of  pasture-ground.    Following  the 
windings  of  the  river,  we   enjoyed   a   rapid  diorama  of 
very  rugged  mountam  scenery,  which  was  only  dark  and 
melancholy  because  the  clouds  lowered  heavily  upon  it. 
The  mountains  on  either  hand  were  from  three  to  five 
thousand  feet  in  height,  and  so  sterile  and  abrupt  as  to 
defy  all  attempt  at  cultivation.    In  some  places  they  ter- 
mmated  in  sheer  walls  of  rock,  dropping  abnost  from  the 
summit  to  the  base.    The  valley,  which  widened  to  a  plain 
as  we  approached  Gratz,  is  well  cultivated;  grain  and 

5* 


lot 


AT   HOME   AXD   ABEOAD. 


vegetables  seem  to  thrive,  bat  the  vine  is  poor  and  scanty. 
Gratz  is  finely  situated,  on  level  ground,  at  the  foot  of 
an  isolated  hill  which  is  crowned  by  a  citadel.  The  place 
is  much  visited  in  summer,  on  account  of  the  excursions 
which  may  be  made  from  it  into  the  wilder  parts  of  the 
Styrian  Alps. 

About  noon  we  crossed  the  Drave,  already  a  broad  and 
fuU  stream.    The  road  then  left  the  mountains,  and  as- 
cended  to  a  tract  of  barren  and  rolling  upland,  with  fre- 
quent swamps  and  thickets  of  rank  growth.    Part  of  it 
was  adapted  for  grazing,  but  cultivation  was  scarce,  and 
the  inhabitants  few  and  scattered.    After  some  twenty 
miles  of  this  travel,  the  mountains  again  began  to  appear, 
and  we  descended  to  a  wild  stream  of  transparent  emerald 
color,  which  was  our  guide  to  the  Save,  in  whose  milky 
blue  waters  its  own  crystal  was  lost.    Among  our  passen- 
gers  were  a  company  of  peasants  from  Krain,  or   Kar- 
niola,  returning  home  from  their  work  on  the  Semmer- 
ing.    They  were  dressed  in  coarse  white  woollen  garments 
of  their  own  manufacture,  and  spoke  a  Slavonic  dialect 
whirh  no  one  could  understand.    TLey  had  Iom-.  narrow 
foreheads,  high  cheek  bones,  black  and  snaky  eyes,  anu 
sharp,  hanging  moustaches,  while  their  complexion  was  a 
reddish  olive.    The  expression  of  their  faces  was  even  more 
villanous  than  that  of  the  Croat  regiments  in  the  Austrian 
service. 

The  last  fifty  miles  of  our  road  foUowed  the  course  of  the 
Save,  enchanting  us  with  a  succession  of  the  grandest 
mountain  landscapes.  For  the  whole  distance,  the  gorge 
through  wh\oh  the  river  passes  is  little  le,s  than  a  canon, 


f 


THE   ROAb    FROM   VIENNA  TO  TRIESTE. 


107 


in  the  most  Californian  sense  of  the  term.  The  water 
roared  at  our  feet  in  a  continuoua  rapid.  The  road  has 
been  cut  through  the  rock  or  built  up  with  much  labor 
from  below,  while,  owing  to  the  windings  of  the  river, 
its  curves  are  abrupt  and  frequent.  The  barren  peaks,  so 
closely  ranged  together  that  scarcely  a  side  glen  finds  its 
way  to  the  river,  towered  thousands  of  feet  above  us,  and 
the  only  road  at  their  base,  besides  c>ur  own,  was  a  little 
path  that  hung  like  a  thread  on  the  opposite  side,  now 
notched  carefully  along  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  now 
dropping  to  the  water,  and  now  climbing  wearily  around 
some  ij^.passable  corner.  At  first,  the  mountains  were 
covered  nearly  to  their  summits  with  forests  which  the 
frost  had  stained  with  a  deep,  dark  crimson  hue,  changing 
to  purple  as  they  stood  more  distant.  The  eflPect  of  this 
royal  drapery — these  broad  and  grand  tints,  contrasted 
with  the  dusky  blue  of  the  water  and  the  light  grey  of  the 
granite  rock — was  indescribably  gorgeous.  But  the  moan- 
tains,  as  we  advanced,  grew  more  barren,  broken,  and  lofty. 
Cloudy  fleeces  were  piled  high  on  their  summits,  and  the 
invisible  Oreads  spun  them  into  glittering  threads  which  slip- 
ped through  their  fingers  ar.i  dropped  from  cliff  to  cliff  into 
the  lap  of  the  glen.  In  one  place  I  found  a  natural  copy 
of  tuc  Fountain  of  Vaucluse.  A  large  stream  burst  up 
full  and  strong  from  the  foot  of  a  precipice,  and  after 
driving  a  rude  mill  fhat  gtood  below,  tumbled  foaming 
into  the  Save. 

Towards  sunset,  we  issued  from  the  mountains,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  afterwards  reached  Laybach,  then  the  termi- 
nation of  the  road.    This  town,  the  capital  of  Oarinthia, 


I 


m 

(,  f^xtfxy^j;,^^  '^  ^  TUt\i-^ 


Mf^^^0^^^d^^ . .  ^m 


mm 


'i-:^*v: 


108 


AT   UOMK   AND   AUROAD. 


is  a  moagro-looking  place,  and  contairiH  notliing  of  interest. 
Most  of  the  passengers  for  Trieste  took  the  diligence  on' 
arriving  a«a  travelled  all  night,  but  I  preferred  ren.aining 
tUi  morning,  in  order  to  make  the  journey  by  daylight,    a" 
the  principal  hotel  I  found  an  English  Colonel,  on  Ms  way 
to  India,  who  had  made  the  same  choice.    We  went  to  bed 
early,  and  were  called  up  before  dayiight  to  take  our  coffee 
and  make  ready  to  start.    The  Colonel  was  very  anxious 
to  have  a  comfortable  place,  with  not  too  many  fellow-pas- 
BCPgers,   and  gave   the  kel'.ner  no   rest  on   the    subjf^ct. 
Finally,  as  the  diligence  wjis  ready  to  start,  the  latter  came 
up,  saying  that  he  had  foand  tlie  very  place-a  sort  of 
coupe,  in  which  there  was  no  one  but  a  lady.     "  Is  she 
young  and  handsome,  and  docs  she  speak  French  ?»  asked 
the  Colonel,  who  was  innocent  of  German.     "  She  is  very 
young  and  beautiful,  and  of  course  she  -speaks  French," 
replied  the  kellner.    Hereupon  the  officer  took  up  his  cloak 
and  went  down,  rejoicing  over  his  agreeable  companion; 
but  wliat  was  his  horror,  when  the  day  broke,  to  find  a 
Styrian  Baroness,  old,  fat,  frightfully  plain,  and  ignorant  of 
French!    I  was  more  lucky,  in  finding  a  separate  vehicle, 
in  which  there  was  a  young  Bavarian  officer.     I  gave  him  J 
cigar,  ho  spread  half  of  his  camp-cloak  over  my  knees, 
and  thenceforth  we  fraternized  perfectly. 

It  was  a  uamp,  dark  morning,  but  the  horns  of  the  pos- 
tUions  blew  a  merry  peal  as  we  rolled  out  of  Laybach. 
The  roads  were  in  a  miserable  condition  from  recent 
rains,  and  the  wet  plain  over  which  we  drove  seemed 
interminable.  During  the  forenoon  we  passed  over  many 
ranges  of  hills,  running  pnrdlel  with  the  coast,  and  iucios- 


THE   KOAD   FKOJI   VIEJXA  TO   TRIESTE. 


109 


\ 


ing  valleys  of  green  and  pleasant  aspect,  but  the  country 
grew  more  bleak  and  cold  as  wc  approached  the  Adriatic. 
The  woods,  which  were  just  touched  with  the  frost  when  I 
left  Vienna,  were  here  bare  of  leaves.  Cultivation  was 
confined  almost  entirely  to  the  valleys,  where  the  young 
wheat  was  beginning  to  look  green.  I  saw  a  few  herdsmen 
on  the  hill-tops,  tending  their  sheep  and  goats  among  the 
stones,  but  most  of  the  inhabitants  were  employed  in  keep- 
ing tho  roads  in  order  or  begging  of  the  passengers.  They 
are  a  starved-looking  race,  kin  to  the  Croats.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  Goldsmith's  record  of  the  inhospitality  of  the 
"  rude  Carinthian  boor  "  is  perfectly  correct.  The  Ameri- 
can Bloomers  will  be  surprised  to  learn  that  the  Carinthian 
women  are  before  them  in  the  movement.  Their  skirts 
just  reach  to  the  knee,  but  they  have  not  yet  got  as  far  as 
the  Turkish  trowsers.  They  either  go  bare-legged  or  wear 
hussar  boots. 

If  anything  had  been  wanting  to  convince  me  of  the 
poverty  of  this  region,  it  was  supplied  by  the  dinm  r  they 
gave  us  at  Adelsberg.  The  force  of  leanness  and  of  mean- 
ness could  no  further  go.  The  necessity  of  reaching  Trieste 
a  day  before  the  departure  of  the  steamer,  prevented  me 
from  visiting  the  celebrated  6 /otto  of  Adelsberg,  near  the 
village,  and  the  quicksilver  mines  of  Idria,  which  are  not 
more  than  twenty  rules  distant.  The  geological  character 
of  the  country  between  Adelsberg  and  Trieste  is  very 
remarkable.  It  is  called  the  Karst,  and  consists  of  ranges 
of  stony  hills,  almost  destitute  of  vegetation.  The  sides  of 
these  hills  and  the  valleys  between  them,  are  pierced  with 
cup-like  hollows,  from  which  the  rains  are  evidently  carried 


m^^ 


iio 


AT  HOME  AJID   ABROAD. 


>M 


off  by  subterranean  drains.  They  are  in  aome  places  quite 
deep  and  precipitous,  and  the  read  ™ds  a.ongl  ,he  I  , 
row  partition  walls  between  them.  n  the  nar- 

[That  portion  of  the  raUroad  which  cr„«,es  the  Karst  is  a 

Botw  ch  r  '°  "  ""'"  "^'^-  "^^  ™''  -"^^  «- 

land  is  at  "'  ""^  ""'  ^"""■^  ^''S^  ^^  *«  t^ble- 

land,  ,s  at  t.mes  strong  enough  to  stop  the  trains,  which  are 

fte^de^ined  several  hours  from  this  cause.    On  the  old 
li    W.h  ,r  ""  '''""'  "«»'»■"- chosen  for  their  fami- 

safety.    When  the  w,nd  is  at  its  height,  it  is  strong  enough 
t^::""^  "-lest  wagons,  and  the  officials  hie  t!n 

uLxuu  or  i«49,  a  company  of  draffoons    nn 
he.  wayto  Lomhardy,  were  stopped  for  this  rZ^Z 
«^r  a  young  fellow  With  more  brag  than  brains,  s^d 
We  are  gotng  to  beat  the  rebels,  and  it  is  fooUsh  to  think 

L™ ::;'""  """""^*^  °°  ■-  -""--"f  ".e  omcL 

warnmg,  and  was  presently,  horse  and  all,  blown  off  the 

P^...    Out  Of  the  Whole  company,  bntsireel:: 

We  were  very  anxious  to  reach  Trieste  before  dark,  but 

magnificent  view  from  the  crest  of  fh. 

the  town-a  view   which    T         .        '°°""*''°'  ^^^'"^ 
a  view,  ^vhich,  It  IS  said,  takes  in  the  Pnf.'ro 

curve  of  the  Adriatic,  from  Vo„i..  ti  ^h-  J 

■   ^^  ''^=^-  niountaju  head- 


THK   EOAD   FROM     ,7EXXA  TO  TRIESTE. 


Ill 


■  u 


land  of  Pola.  This  was  nothing,  ho>/ever,  to  the  lazy 
Carinthian  postibon,  who  scarcely  allo'.v^ed  his  three  horses 
to  stretch  their  rope  traces.  The  last  light  of  sunset 
showed  us  the  mountains  of  Friuli,  far  to  the  right,  and 
then  we  leaned  spitefully  back  in  the  carriage  and  dropped 
the  subject.  "We  were  deep  in  criticisms  on  Jenny  Lind's 
voice,  when  a  sudden  exclamation  from  both  of  us  put  a 
stop  to  the  conversation.  A  dark  gulf  yawned  far  below 
us,  half  girdling  a  dusky  plain,  and  ju^t  in  the  centre  of 
the  curve  sparkled  a  glittering  crescent  of  lights,  branch- 
ing into  long  lines  or  breaking  into  showers  of  fiery  dots. 
This  was  Trieste,  gleaming  like  a  tiara  on  the  forehead  of 
the  Adriati*^.  Beyond  it  and  far  co  the  south,  the  hills 
of  Istria  loomed  darkly  along  the  horizon.  All  else  was 
vague  and  indistinct  in  the  starlight.  The  air  grew  milder 
as  we  descended,  and  when  I  walked  alon^  the  quay  on 
my  way  to  the  hotel,  hearing  the  sweet  Italian  tongue  on 
all  sides,  I  could  scarcely  believe  that  the  sun  was  not  still 
shining. 

Trieste  is  comparatively  a  new  town,  and  owes  its  rise 
eutirely  to  its  commerce.  Therefore,  though  it  is  clean, 
bright,  and  pleasant,  the  traveller  dismisses  its  edifices  with 
a  glance,  and  finds  much  more  interesting  material  in  the 
crowds  that  throng  its  streets.  The  Orient  is  much 
nearer  than  at  Vienna,  The  Greek  meets  you  at  every 
turn.  The  Turk  grows  famil'ar,  and  you  make  acquaint- 
ance with  the  Egyptian,  the  Alb.iulan,  and  the  fur-capped 
Dalmatian.  The  mole  is  crowded  with  copper-colored 
sailors  in  dirty  turbans  and  baggy  trowsers.  Chibouques 
are  smoked  in  Lloyd's  Cafe,  and  newspapers  in  Hellenio 


112 


AT   IIOilB   AND   AimOAD. 


.  M.  su,„.a„  arc  «.„  ...oet  ,,  j„„,  „  ,„„  ,^^^^^  „^ 


It 


I 


XI, 


SMYRNA,  AND  THE  GRECIAN  ARCHIPELAGO. 


[O0TOB£:e,   1881.] 


The  fare  from  Trieste  to  Alexandria,  by  way  of  Smymar— 
a  voyage  of  twelve  days— is  about  $40.  This  does  not 
iaclude  provisions,  which  cost  about  75  cents  a  day  addi- 
tional. There  is  a  third  place  for  "  the  scum  of  the  earth," 
so  that  the  second  cabin  is  considered  quite  respectable, 
though  not  aristocratic.  It  is  very  neat,  tolerably  venti- 
lated, and  furnished  with  berths  which  are  perfectly  clean 
and  flealess,  though  rather  hard.  As  I  had  already  been 
Jeasoned  to  planks,  I  found  them  very  good.  We  rose  at 
daybreak  and  were  immediately  served  with  small  cups  of 
rich  black  coffee.  At  ten  o'clocl.:  ttore  was  a  substantial 
^Teakfast,  and  at  four  a  dinner  of  six  courses,  both  of  which 
meals  were  accompanied  with  wine  ud  libitum —  a  li^ht, 
pure  Italian  vmtage,  which  Father  Mathew  might  quaflf 


114 


AT  HOME   AND  ABROAD. 


wa»  a  barrel  of  the  coar«r  .ort  on  deck,  which  served  the 
n.on«reI  Greek  and  Dataatian  eaUor,  in.ead  .fa  It 
but.  Our  day  wound  up  with  a  cup  of  tea,  made  in  good 
E  gh*  st„e.  If  „„e  cannot  endure  such  hardships  as  II 
w  "  e  sk,r„ng  the  mountain-shorcs  of  G«ec«  and  Albani.^' 
let  liim  stick  to  his  easy  chair. 

Our  passengers  were  brought  together  from  all  parts  of 

the  eart     and  from  some  odd  corners  of  Society.    I„  ,h 

after  cabm  .here  was  a  Greek,  of  the  nob.e  fan^"y    f 

Wocordat   ;  the  English  wife  of  a  Turkish  Bey,  and  a 

Gem.an  missionary  wi.h  an  English  wife,  bound  L  Bey 

rout.    In  the  fore  cabin,  there  were  three  ItalL-u,  smger 

going  to  U,e  Constantinopohfan  opera;  an  Ionian;  a  mos^ 

.gnorai,.  Pr.,,ia„,  b„„„,  f„,  ^,^^„^_  ^^  ^  ^^ 

deck  wa,  ccnpied  by  a  Jew  and  his  family,  on  their  way 
to  Jernsd^em.     The  man  wore  a  greasy  gown  of  black 
erge,  w.th  a  beard  reaching  .o  bis  wais,l,d  .he  wTo t 
&nuly  rcpresen.ed  to  the  life  Thackeray's 


"  filt!'7  Jews  to  larboard, 
Uncombed,  unwM.',e<l,  unbarbercd." 

They  had  a  young  chUd,  which  squalled  twice  as  bud  as 
any  uneircurndsed  infant  I  ever  heard.  I  recollect  once 
hearing  a  camp-mceting  hymn  which  commeneod  "  What's 
became  of  the  Hebrew  children?"    I  think  I  could  have 

cMdren  "  "'  '"  "'°  '°'^''''  "^  °"°  "''  ""^  "f""^" 

We  pass  unnoticed,  the  distant  view  of  the  Dalmatian 


8MYENA,   AND  THE  GRECIAN  ABCHIPELAGO. 


115 


coast,  which  I  have  since  then  visited  and  described.    At 
Corfu,  we  first  touch  classic  earth.    Here  Homer  has  been 
before  us,  and  here  we  may  still  behold  the  Phseacian  ^diley 
which  bore  Ulysses  to  his  home,  transformed  into  a  rock 
by  the  vengeance  of  Neptune,  in  sight  of  its  destined 
haven.    Thence  by  Leucadia,  Ithaca,  and  the  shores  of  Elis 
and  Arcadia,  our  keel  ploughs  illustrious  waters.    Beyond 
the  shallow  bay  of  Arcadia,  however,  our  thoughts  are 
recalled  to  later  times :  we  are  in  the  Gulf  of  Navarino. 
The  harbor  where  the  great  m"ritime  battle  took  place  is 
almost  excluded  from  view  of  the  sea  by  the  long  island  of 
Sphagia  (the  scene  of  Byron's  "Corsair"),  which  lies  across 
its  mouth.     A  short  distance  further,  in  passing  between 
♦he  island  of  Sapienza  and  the  mamland,  we  run  close  to 
the  town  of  Modon,  whose  massive  wallo,  the  memorial  of 
Venetian  sway,  project  into  the  sea.     Another  headland 
brings  us  to  the  Gulf  of  Coron,  and  to  the  sight  of  the 
sublime  mountain  peninsula  which  divides  this,  the  ancient 
Messenian,  from  the  Laconian  Gulf  beyond.     Towards  its 
extremity  the  Taygetus  suddenly  terminates,  but  the  narrow 
strip  of  Cape  Matapan  is  thrust  in  advance,  like  the  paw 
of  a  sleepLig  lion,  driving  its  rocky  talons  into  the  sea. 
The  aspect  of  this  promontory,  which  is  the  most  southern 
point  of  Europe,  is  remarkably  grand.     The  perpendicular 
walls  of  d„rk-red  rock  which  form  the  cape  are  several 
hundred  feet  in  height,  and  the  wild  ridges  of  the  Tay- 
getus rise  gradually  behind  them  to  an  elevation  of  7,000 
feet.  t 

When  I  went  on  deck  the  next  morning,  we  wore  in  the 
Grecian  Archipelago.    The  islands  of  Serphos  and  Siphau- 


*r--caa-i^v:i 


llf 


AT  HOJCE  AND  ABEOAD. 


If »: 


W 


tos  were  already  behind  us;  Anti-Paros,  Paros,  and  Naxos 
retreated  beyond  each  other,  far  to  the  East;   the  low 
shores  of  Delos  rose  ir.  front,  with  Mykonos  still  further 
off,  and  the  hills  of  Tmos  blushed  in  the  sunrise  over  the 
nearer  coast  of  Syra.    We  doubled  «   rocky  cape  and 
entered  the  harbor,  just  as  the  sunshine  reached  the  top  of 
the  mountain-cone  on  which  the  old  city  is  built.    The  bril- 
liant  white  of  the  flat  Oriental  bouses,  which  rise  tier  above 
tier  up  the  craggy  steep,  cortrasted  finely  with  the  soft 
morning  sky  and  the  perfect  ultramarine  of  the  water.    It 
was  something  more  than  a  sunrise  to  me;  it  was  the 
dawn  of  the  Orient. 

During  a  day  and  a  half  that  we  lay  at  anchor  there,  I 
became  quite  as  weU  acquainted  with  the  city  as  I  desired. 
Its  Oriental  character  holds  good  in  every  rcspect-all  fan-' 
ness  without  and  all  ^Ith  withm.    There  is  but  one  respect- 
able street,  which  you  enter  on  landing-a  sort  of  bazaar 
covered  with  ragged  awning,  and  occupied  by  the  principal 
merchants.    The  rest  is  a  wUderness  of  dirty  lanes,  barely 
wide  enough  for  two  persons  to  pass  each  other,  and  spread 
for  more  than  a  mile  along  the  mountain-side.    You  ascend 
and  descend  between  waUs,  just  too  high  to  prevent  your 
seeing  anythmg,  and  after  much  labor,  come  to  a  halt  in  a 
vUe  Uttle  court,  breathing  anything  but  bahn,  or  perhaps 
on  the  flat  house-top  of  some  astonished  Greek.    Then  you 
return,  picking  your  steps  with  much  trouble,  and  try 
another  course,  but  the  twists  and  turns,  the  steps  here  and 
there  and  the  culs-de-sac  so  bewUder  you,  that  you  finish 
by  finding  yourself  just  where  you  did  not  wish  to  go. 
I  tried  the  experiment  twice,  and  after  looking  in  on  tho 


8MTBNA,    AND  THE  GRBJIAN  AKCHIPBXAGO.  117 

domestic  arrangements  of  half  the  families  in  Syra,  gave 
up  the  attempt. 

The  new  town,  which  contains  upwards  of  20,000  inhabit- 
ants, has  grown  up  entirely  within  the  last  thirty  years. 
The  refugees  from  other  islands,  during  the  Revolution, 
first  built  their  huls  on  the  shore;  afterwards  the  harbor,  on 
account  of  its  central  position  in  the  Archipelago,  was 
made  the  stopping-place  of  the  French  and  Austrian  steam- 
ers. It  is  now  a  Grecian  naval  and  quarantine  station,  and 
has  an  extensive  and  increasing  commerce  with  the  other 
ports  of  the  Levant.  The  town  r.t  present  exhibits  every 
sign  of  prosperity  except  cleanliness.  The  quay  is  crowded 
with  sailors,  wearing  the  semi-Turkiah  drese  of  the  islands, 
and  the  traffic  in  fruit,  wood,  fish,  grain,  spices  and  tobacco, 
is  carried  on  with  great  briskness.  The  shopkeepers  a^e 
busy,  the  little  markets  are  thronged,  and  the  mechanics 
who  ply  their  several  avocations  in  their  ronf^  way  look 
too  cheerfully  industrious  to  lack  work.  In  the  snip-yard 
I  counted  ten  vessels  (tv7o  of  300  tons)  on  the  stocks,  be- 
sides a  number  of  small  craft.  Several  large  and  handsome 
edifices  were  going  up,  in  addition  to  the  many  one-story 
boxes  which  the  common  people  inhabit. 

I  accompanied  the  baritone  of  our  Italian  company  on  a 
visit  to  a  Greek  family  of  his  acquaintance.  "We  found  at 
home  an  old  lady  and  her  daughter,  who  received  us  very 
cordially,  and  immediately  brought  us  Turkish  cofiee,  with 
a  little  jar  of  quince  jelly.  They  snoke  no  language  but 
Greek,  the  rich,  whispermg  flow  of  which  is  not  less  sweet 
to  the  ear,  though  less  crystalline  in  accent,  than  Italian. 
Both  ladies  had  regular  and  agreeable  features,  and  t.heir 


■!  ;■  J 


lit 


AT  110U£  AND   AfiKOAJ>. 


manners  possessed  a  native  grace  which  I  hardly  expected 
to  find  in  such  a  locality. 

I  rose  before  sunrise  and  went  on  shore,  to  make  the 
ascent   of  the  lofty  peak   wliich  rises  behind  the  town. 
Escaping  from  the  tortuous  lanes  of  New  Syra,  I  crossed  a 
narrow  plain  to  the  foot  of  the  old  town,  which  rises  like 
an  immense  sugar-loaf,  at  the  opening  of  a  deep  and  rocky 
glen.     Here  there  are  not  even  lanes,  but  only  steps  from 
the  bottom  of  the  town  to  the  top,  up  wliich  the  asses, 
laden  with   water-jars,  toiled   painfully.    The   houses  are 
very  old,  and  raised  on  arcltes  in  many  places,  where  there 
is  not  soil  enougi>  to  hold  them.    For  a  while  I  climbed  the 
fatiguing   steps  without  losing  the  way,  but   fiuaUy  went 
astray  on  the  house-toi)s,  aud  surprised  the  inhabitants.    A 
bare-legged  boy,  looking  down  from  the  next  house  above 
me,  shouted  "San    ^iorgios?"    I  noJded  my  head,  and 
with  a  spring  he  was  beside  mo,  and  went  capering  up  the 
steps  as  a  guide.    Three  or  four  other  urchins  followed,  and 
when  we  reached  the  Church  of  St.  George,  which  crowns 
the  sharp  top  of  the  cone,  I  had  six  attendants.     The  glen 
below  me  was  filled  with   a  long  array  of  women,  with 
water-jars  on   their  heads,  and  boys  driving  laden  asses, 
going  to  and  from  the  fountain  behind  the  town.    I  pomted 
to  the  fountain  and  then  to  the  peak,  which  lifted  its  mar- 
ble  -  •  igs  high  above  us,  and  made  signs  to  the  boys  that 
they  sI'oiJd  accompany  me.     Theu:  wUd  olack  eyes  sparkled 
assent,  and  the  tassels  of  the  red  caps  fluttered  in  the  wind 
as  they  leaped  down  the  rocks.     We  went  at  a  breakneck 
rate  into  the  bottom  of  the  glen,  the  shelvy  sides  of  which 
were  laboriously  formed  into  terraces,  planted  with  figs, 
oranges,  and  vines. 


BMTRNA,   AND  TUB  QRBCIAN  ARCHirELAGO.  119 

My  six  guides  took  a  path  which  led  up  the  bed  of  a 
winter  torrent,  till  it  opened  on  the  bare  sides  of  the  moun- 
tam.    The  sharp  masses  of  rock,  of  which  it  was  composed, 
were   scantily  covered  with  wild  sage   and   ether  plants, 
which  gave  an  aromatic  and  stimulating  taste  to  the  air,  as 
they  were   brokeu    under  our   feet.    The  nimble    Uzards 
scampered  into  their  holes,  but  they  were  ;iot  n^ore  nimble 
than  my  little  Greeks,  whose  caps  bobbed  up  and  down  as 
they  bounded  with  hands  and  feet  up   the  rocks.    They 
chattered  incessantly  to  one  another  and  to  me,  and  I  talked 
to  them  in  Englid'  and  Italian,  both  parties  enjoying  the 
conversation,  though  neither  unierstood  it.    At  last,  when 
we  had  reached  a  rocky  shoulder,  not  far  from  the  summit, 
I  dismissed  them  and  ascended  alone.     I  gave  e  *ch  of  them 
a  piece  of  10  Ic}  ta  (the  largest  Greek  copper  coin) ;  they 
laid  their  hands  gravely  across  their  breasts  and  bowed, 
after  which  their  capers  of  delight  were  most  amusing. 
They  shouted  and  danced  on  the  rocks,  and  then,  clutch- 
ing the  coins  tightly  in  their  hands,  went  out  of  sight  with 
the  fleetness  of  young  goats. 

A  few  moments  more  of  breathless  climbing  brought  me 
to  the  top  of  the  peak,  which  cannot  be  less  than  two  thou- 
sand :eet  in  height.  Some  friendly  hand  had  piled  a  totter- 
ing  tower  of  stones,  up  which  I  mounted,  and  then  sat 
down  to  breathe  the  deUcious  air  and  contemplate  the 
magnificent  view.  The  horizon  was  so  extended  as  to  take 
in  nearly  the  entire  group  of  the  Cyclades,  with  a  few  of 
the  Sporades.  I  counted  twenty-five  islands,  besides  Syra— 
some  rising  into  cloudy  summits,  some  low  and  barren, 
some  lying  in  da-k  purple  shadow,  some  gleaming  bright 


120 


^T   IIOMK   AND   ABROAD. 


and  yellow  in  the  sun,  and  all  girdled  by  the  same  glorious 
blue  of  the  sea.  Here,  almost  at  my  feet,  was  Delos,  where 
liatona  gave  birth  to  Apollo  and  Diana ;  yonder  Paros,  the 
birth-place  of  the  Mediccan  Venus  and  the  Dying  Gladia- 
tor ;  behind  it  Naxoa,  sacred  to  Bacchus  and  Ariadne ;  anu 
faint  and  far  to  the  south,  Nio,  where  Homer  died.  To  the 
west  lay  Thermia,  Zca,  and  Andros,  and  away  beyond  An- 
dros  the  shadowy  hills  of  Negropont,  the  ancient  Euboea. 
Zea  concealed  the  jnomontory  of  Cape  Colonna,  but  bo- 
tweon  the  island  a»»d  Negropont,  dim  as  a  dream,  stretched 
the  mainland  of  Attica,  the  tops  of  Hymettus.  In  the 
northeast  I  distinguished  Icaros  and  Samos,  and  in  the 
south  the  toi)nio8t  sunmiit  of  Milo.  The  feeling  with  which 
I  gazed  on  that  panorama  can  scarcely  be  expressed  in 
words ;  or  if  in  words,  only  in  that  speech  taught  by  hi  ■, 
who  was  bom  on  Delos. 

On  my  return,  I  descended  to  the  fountain,  which  guslios 
from  the  solil  rock,  in  the  'avine  behind  the  old  town.  It 
is  the  samo  ^ )  which  the  pilgrims  of  old  resorted  for  puri- 
fication, before  visiting  the  shrine  of  Apollo  at  Delos. 
Without  the  supply  of  soft  and  pure  water  which  it  affords, 
the  island  would  not  be  habitable.  I  found  a  number  of 
■women  grouped  around  it,  waiting  to  fill  their  heavy  jars, 
which  they  then  bore  off  on  their  shoulders.  The  water  is 
sold  in  the  tON\Ti  and  even  retailed  by  the  glass  to  the  sailor.^ 
along  the  quay.  I  came  on  board  like  one  of  the  mcsse;'.- 
gers  from  Eshkol,  bearing  a  cluster  of  transparent  pink 
grapes,  which  weighed  more  than  four  pounds. 

"VVe  left  Syra  towards  evening,  our  deck  crowded  with 
Greeks,  Turks,  and  Jews.     On  passing  the  strait  between 


•<^ 


SMYRNA,    ANI>  THE   OKKC14.K   ARCIJIPKLAOO.  121 

Tino8  aiid  Mykonos,  we  entered  the  op...  sea,  and  inade  for 
Scio,  about  Hfty  miles  distant.    As  the  night  was  dark,  and 
we  ouiy  touched  at  the  islan-:  for  half  an  hour,  some  time 
J>a8t  midnir^ht,  I  kept  my  berth,  but  rose  at  .^awn  to  see  a 
Hunrise  in  Asia,  for  the  first  Cme.     Wo  werp  just  entering 
the  bay  of  S.nyrna-a  magnificent  sneet  of  water,  between 
thirty  and  forty  miles  long,  and  varying  from  five  to  ten 
m   breadth.    Its  shores  are  mountains,  whoso  green  and 
wooded  slopes  present  an  agreeiblo  contrast  to  the  bare 
iiUls  of  Greece.    The  narrow  plains  at  their  feet  are  covered 
with  gardens  and  grain-fields,  and  dotted  with  white  villages 
and  country-houses. 

After  passing  the  "Castle  of  the' Sea,"  a  large  wlilte- 
washed  fortress  conmianding  the  channel,  we  first  see  the 
mmarets  of  Smyrna.    Mount  Pagus,  on  the  southern  side, 
crowned  by  its  ruined  cuadel,  keeps  the  citv  in  shadow,  but 
as  we  approached,  the  mass  of  houses-flat,  dome-Uke  roofs 
gay  mosques  and  light  minarets,  stretching,  for  nearly  twJ 
miles  along  the  shore  and  climbing  to  the  dark  cypress- 
groves  .f  the  burial  grounds,  high  on  the  hill-grows  dis- 
tuict  in  aU  its  novel  and  fantastic  features.    Our  boat 
passes  slowly  to  the  Frank  quarter,  in  the  northern  part  of 
the  city,  and  drops  anchor  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the 
shore. 

Smyrna  is  sometimes  called,  in  the  flowery  tongue  of  the 
East,  the  «  Ornament  of  Asia. »  No  one,  who  first  beholds 
the  city  from  the  sea,  or  from  the  slopes  of  Mount  Pagus, 
will  hesitate  to  accord  it  so  graceful  a  title.  The  grand  and 
harmomous  features  of  the  landscape,  of  which  it  is  the 
central  point,  give  it  an  air  of  dignity  and  importance. 


122 


AT    IIOMK    AND   AHUOAI). 


yvh'u'h  ncitluT  its  strootH  ami  public  t'diticcs,  nor  tlic  indiciv 
tions  of  Ibrt'iLjn  trnlVio,  in  its  harbour,  would  convey.  Il 
lie«  at  tho  head  of  the  gulf,  and  at  the  mouth  of  a  broad 
and  beautiful  valley,  v-  t pr- 1  i,y  the  River  Hermes,  its 
8outhoi  n  end  resting «.  a  t '  ■uouutain,  as  an  oriental  beauty, 
reelininj:^  after  tho  bath,  i.ics  lui  head  on  the  pihows  of  her 
divan.  Its  aspect  is  that  of  majestic  repose ;  the  simple  and 
compact  array  of  its  tiled  roofs  and  white  Avails,  broken 
liere  and  there  by  the  lis^ht  shaft  of  a  minaret,  a  slender  cy- 
press, or  the  plumy  top  of  a  palm,  presents  no  point  suffi- 
ciently striking:  to  call  one's  attention  to  tho  details  of  tho 
view.  The  city,  tho  jparkHng  gulf,  the  JNIediterranean  on 
tho  horizon,  the  garden-valley,  compassed  on  all  sides  by 
the  c'oud-eai)ped  ott'-shoots  of  the  Taurus  range — all  aro 
blended  in  one  superb  {.anoraina,  antl  colored  by  the  blno 
and  violet  pencils  of  the  Ionian  air.  Hero  Asia — grand, 
though  fallen  Asia — has  most  solemnly,  most  sublimely  im- 
pressed the  seal  of  her  destiny. 

The  city,  after  you  have  entered  it,  loses  this  impressive 
efi'oit,  bnt  gives  you  an  endless  variety  of  bizarre  and  pic- 
turesipie  forms.  I  landed  alone,  within  an  hour  after  my 
arrival,  and  selected  one  from  the  crowd  of  shabby  drago- 
men on  tho  tpiay,  to  be  my  guide  through  the  city.  Tho 
subject  of  my  choice  turned  out  to  be  a  Spanish  Jew,  whom 
I  ignominiously  dismissed,  when  he  attempted  to  palm  oft 
an  old  synagogue  as  the  chief  mosque  of  Smyrna.  The 
main  street  of  the  Frank  quarter,  which  lies  next  the  water, 
is  narrow,  crooked,  ill  paved,  and  very  dirty.  There  is  no 
liouse  in  the  city  more  than  two  stories  in  height,  and  none 
of  any  protensions   to  architectural   beauty,  though    the 


"^^Sji;iS?e-;,r- 


^;cs\.~vt»a5^:.r.- 


i 


»  ^ 


SMYRNA,    AN1>   TlIK  OREUAN    ARC„,PELAOO.  123 

Frank,  boast  -overal  cool  court-yard,  with  fountain,.  TI,o 
J  rank  »,,„,„,,  ..rf,,,,,,,.,,^  ,„  ^.^^^.^  .^_^^,  Italian,  l,ut  t.,„ 
porer,,  .lonkoy-Jrivcr,,  and  .,oatn,en,  who  besot  you  on 
l:">y,  arc  lull  oi'  English  and  Spani»I,  ,,hra«.,. 

Nearly  every  man  one  moots  here  is  a  study.    The  vcrv 
;.«.non  who  came  to  take  u,  ashore,  with  their  red  b,,i 

"'■  ":"  '  '"'""""^ ''™""  """•  »■"'  weather-beaten  l  "r- 

J  OS,  were  ,ne.„res„„e.    Then,  as  I  fi.t  touched  Asian 

ll    tt  •"'""""  '-"""^  "'■  »''»l-«irt  .nountainoers, 
anned  w.th  heavy  sabres,  and  turning  down  the  «rst  street, 
met  a  stnng  of  camels,  laden  with  water-»kin,.    In  the 
crowd  that  ,„,l„wed  then  I  recognised  Arabs,  Greeks,  Ar" 
".en,an,,  and  ,.i,v,,tian.s,  besides  the  di«crcnt  varieties  of 
i  "    s  and  I.  ran  s.    Tall  M„.«,m.an,  stood  in  the  entrances 
the  eourtyar,!,,  beside  baskets  of  transparent  pink,  green 
d  purple  grapes,   p„rte.,  with   small   board'^arj:  .and' 
b  ck-k  h  ,  .tr.,pped  on  their  b.,oks,  steered  their  blind  way 
"'7«'  '":  """'^^•'^  »"'-^»i  a  con,pa„y  of  Turkish  women 
-  ed  and  n,uffled  in  loose  robes,  stared  in  the  «.ees  of 
he  Pranks, and  the  long-drawn  ".uarO-a-a ! ^.  (take care!) 
o    the  d,u.keyn,e„,   sounding  every  in.„ant   behind   me 
obhgea  me  to  take  the  wall  and  suspend  my  observation 
The  streets  are  so  narrow  that  the  projecting  eaves  of  the 

,:::r -"-.-a  a, den  donkey  .„. 

Diot'ks  the  passage. 

My  Jewish  gmde  set  off  on  a  quick  trot  and  soon 
b  ought  me  to  the  .ur.anee  of  the  bazaars.  The  Smyrll 
b-aars,  I  should  here  state,  are  merely  streets  of  one  story 

ops,  covered  with  a  loose  roofing  of  boards,  whieb  n^S 
them  very  cool  and  agreeable  during  the  hot  mid-d,-,y  hou™ 


f^T-y^-.-y 


114 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


iw. 


They  are  open  thoroughfares,  and  the  cry  of  ^^  ffuarda/^* 
is  never  out  of  one's  ears.     Soine  skill  is  required  to  avoid 
being  run  over  by  a  camel,  knocked  down  by  a  donkey,  or 
punched  in  the  head  by  a  jjerainbuluting  board-'~'le.     The 
first  bazaar  I  entered  is  mostly  occupied  by  the  Franks, 
who  have  a  large  display  of  printed  cotton  goods.     X  wasted 
no  time  on  the  red-capped  Italian  and  Greek  shoi)keepers, 
but  hastened  on  to  the  Turkish  quarter,  where  the  calra 
impassive  merchants,  reclining  on  their  carpets,  scarcely  put 
aside  the  amber  mouth-pieces  of  their  chibouks,  to  reply  to 
a  cu^  omer.     Here  the  plash  of  water  from  the  public  foun- 
tains sounds  cool  and  grateful,  and  the  air  is  impregnated 
with  the  subtle  and  dehcate  aroma  of  spices.    At  the  cor- 
ners stand  the  venders  of  sherbet,  and  near  them  the  smoke 
ascends  from  pans  of  simmering  kabobs  and  various  other 
Turkish  dishes,  which  I  was  content  with  beholding.     The 
rich  gleam  of  the  silks  of  Brousa,  the  Persian  scarfs,  and 
the  golden  fringes  and  embroidered  work  displayed  in  the 
shops  of  the  Turkish  and  Persian  merchants,  was  a  much 
less  gorgeous  sight  to  me  than  that  of  the  lazy  owners,  with 
their  large  black  eyes,  half  closed  in  beatific  dreams,  over 
the  bubbling  narghileh.     In  the   Persian  quartei,   I  saw 
several  beautiful  children,  but  one  boy  whose  fiice  was  that 
of  an  angel.    Raphael's  cherubs,  in  his  Madonna  di  San 
Sisto,  are  less  divine  in  their  loveliness.    If  the  children  of 
the  Moslem  Paradise  are  thus  beautiful,  I  know  no  artist 
who  would  not  willingly  go  there. 

I  also  visited  the  slave  bazaar,  which  is  in  the  Turkish 
part  of  the  city.  The  keepers  at  first  objected  to  my  en- 
trance,  but  a  small  backsheesh  removed  their  scruples.     I 


SMYBNA,    AND  THE   GRECIAN  ARCHIPELAGO.  125 

was  ushered  into  a  court-yard,  around  which  about  twenty 
Xubia,,s  lay  grouped  in  the  sun-small,  thick-lipped,  flat, 
headed  creatures,  whose  faces  exhibited  a  sort  of  passive 
good-humor,    but  not  the   slightest  sign   of  intelligence. 
They  are  the  lowest  and  cheapest  kind  of  slaves,  brining 
from  $50  to  $150  each,  and  are  purchased  by  the  Turks  for 
house-servants.    The  keeper  assured  me  that  he  would  buy 
provisions  for  them  with  the  backsheesh,  but  I  have  no  idea 
that  he  kept  his  word. 

After  dismissing  my  guide,  I  took  my  bearings  as  accu- 
rately  as  possible  and  plunged  into  the  Turkish  quarter 
seekmg  a  way  to  the  burial-ground.    The  further  I^ent' 
from  the  bazaa..,  the  more  quiet  grew  the  streets,  and  very 
soon  I  saw  no  more  Frank  dresses.    A  masked  Turkish 
lady  who  passed,  looked  at  me  steadily  v.ith  two  of  the 
most  superb  eyes  I  ever  saw,  but  the  next  that  came  drew 
her  mantle  over  her  head  and  crouched  close  to  the  oppo- 
site wall,  so  that  the  unclean  Frank  might  not  even  brush 
her  garments.    As  the  streets  began  to  ascend  the  hUl    I 
was  at  a  loss  which  to  take,  but  climbed  the  stones  at  ran- 
dom,  till  I  reached  a  fountain.    A  number  of  children  who 
were  gathered  around  it.  made  signs  that  I  should  return 
andcru  .out  ^^chkatch!  ckk^tch  n^^^^U^,  j  ...^  to  be 
he  Turk.    f.    «.  dogs  I »  since  I  had  not  gone  a  dozen  sv.ps 
further  before  a  whole  pack  of  those  animals  set  upon  me 
and  forced  me  to  beat  a  hasty  retreat.    I  reached  the  grove 
of  cypresses  without  further  adventu..,  and  sat  down  to 
rest  on  a  broken  p'  lar,  taken  from  the  ruins  of  Ancient 
Smyrna  to  be  the  headstone  of  a  Turk.     The  Turks,  unlike 
tl.e  Chnsfans,  never  bury  one  generation  in  the  ashes  of 


126 


AX   HOME   A^'D   ABROAD. 


another,  and  consequently  the  burial-ground  is  always  en- 
Iargit»<T  its  limits.  The  tombstones,  with  their  turbaned 
tops,  are  innumerable,  and  th'^  pride  of  some  families, 
whose  names  are  emblazoned  in  golden  Arabic  letters  on 
pillars  painted  scarlet  or  sky-blue,  is  doubly  vain  and  ridi- 
culous amid  the  neglect  and  decay  which  the  hoary  cy- 
presses have  looko''.  upon  for  many  centuries. 

I  climbed  the  breezy  sides  of  Mount  Pagus  to  the  ruins 
of  the  ancient  citadel,  passing  on  my  way  many  fragments 
of  cut  stoiie,  traces  of  walls  and  gateways,  which,  with 
some  cisterns  and  foundations,  are  all  that  remain  of  the 
old  city.  The  hill  was  covered  with  droves  of  camels,  who 
lifted  their  solemn  heads  from  the  dry  shrubs  upon  which 
they  were  h'  owsing,  and  looked  at  me  with  the  same  pas- 
sive faces  as  their  masters.  From  the  crest  of  Mount 
Pagus  I  looked  down  into  the  valley  of  the  Meles,  on  its 
southern  side,  and  beyond,  over  the  rolling  plains  that 
stretched  far  inland.  But  the  view  of  Smyrna  and  its  gar- 
dens, the  mountains  and  the  sea,  attracted  me  still  more. 
I  sat  for  hours  on  a  rock,  under  the  battered  wall  of  the 
castle,  without  being  able  to  take  my  eyes  from  the  sublime 
landscape.  I  was  afterwards  told  that  I  ran  the  risk  of 
being  robbed,  as  the  Franks  of  Smyrna  are  rather  shy  of 
wandering  alone  among  the  ruins.  I  then  descended  the 
eastern  side  to  the  Caravan  Bridge,  a  favorite  resort  of  the 
Smyrniotes.  The  banks  of  the  Meles  are  crowded  with 
coffee-houses,  and  one  may  there  inhale  the*  perfume  of 
genuine  Latakia  under  the  shade  of  plane-tress  and  acaciai. 


SMYltXA,    AND  THE   GRECIAN   ARCHIPELAGO.  127 

The  night  of  our  departure  from  Smyrna  we  saw  Mity- 
lene,  thr  ancient  Lesbos,  and  Scio,  by  moonlight.     I  saw 
little  except  the  illuminated  outline  of  Scio,  but  that  a'one 
was  beautiful.     When  I  arose  at  sunrise,  the  rock  of  Patmos 
was  just  vanishing  in  the  rear,  and  the  blue  cliffs  of  Cos 
appeared  in  front.    The  home  of  Apelles  is  rocky  and  bar- 
ren, and  I  could  distinguish  little  sign  of  habitation  on  its 
western  coast.    But  this  island,  like  the  other  Sporades  be- 
tween which  we  sailed,  presents  such  an  unfailing  harmony 
in  their  forms,  the  sunshine  lies  so  warm  and  rosy  along 
their  sides,  the  shadows  of  their  peaks  are  so  deeply  violet 
in  their  hue,  and  the  sea  and  sky  which  hold  them  in  their 
embrace,  are  so  pure  and  brilliant,  that  we  forget  their  past 
glory  and  their  present  desolation.     Rhodes  and  Karpathos 
were  the  last  we  saw;  they  formed  the  porta,  of  our  high- 
way to  Egypt,  and  they  lingered  for  hours  on  the  horizon, 
as  if  to  call  us  bac.k  to  the  Grecian  Isles. 


XII. 

A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  THURINGIAN  FOREST. 


m 

1]. 


Had  it  not  been  for  the  Prussian  Consul  in  Constantinople 
— a  gentleman  whom  I  never  saw,  and  of  whose  name  I  am 
ignorant — I  should  probably  never  have  visited  the  Thtlrin- 
gian  Forest.  The  chain  of  causes,  events,  and  sequences, 
which  is  interwoven  with  a  very  important  portion  of  my 
life,  reaches  back  to  him  and  there  stops.  He  is  conse- 
quently responsible  for  more  than  he  knows,  or  has  ever 
dreamed  of.  Trace  back  any  event  of  your  life  until  you 
find  the  starting-point  whence  you  set  out  upon  the  track 
of  it — the  switch,  in  railroad  parlance,  which  throws  the  car 
of  your  destiny  iipon  quite  another  line  of  rail  than  you  had 
chosen  for  it — and  how  unnoticed,  how  trifling,  how  absurd, 
frequently,  is  the  beginning!  The  merest  accident  (yet 
who  shall  dare  to  say  that  such  things  are  accidental  ?)  fre- 
quently leads  a  man  into  his  true  career,  which  he  might 
not  otherwise  h.ive  found.     I  remember  to  have  seen  an 


^av-rr  -j^.zr^i 


v^^^MliS^-'^ 


A  WALK  THROUGH   THE  THURINGIAK   FOREST.         129 

ingenious  genealogy  of  the  American  Revolution,  which  was 
traced  back,  step  by  stop,  to  a  quarrel  about  a  pig.  Zschokke 
has  written  a  curious  double  story  based  upon  this  singular 
succession  of  causes,  in  which  a  poor  boy,  by  throwing 
down  a  dough-trough,  attains  wealth  and  rank;  whih  a 
nobleman  of  talent  and  character  is  reduced  to  disgrace  and 
beggary,  by  spilling  a  bottle  of  ink. 

But  you  ask,  how  is  the  Prussian  Consul  at  Constantino- 
ple responsible  for  my  visit  to  the  ThUringian  Forest  ?    In 
this  way.    A  German  traveller  reached  Constantinople  in 
October,  1851,  on  his  way  to  Greece  and  Palestine.    Having 
made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Prussian  Consul  there,  the  lat- 
ter prevailed  upon  him,  at  the  last  moment,  to  change  his 
plans,  and  visit  Egypt  instead.     So  urgent  wa.^  he,  that  he 
gave  the  traveller  letters  to  the  Consul  in  Smyrna,  who 
seconded  his  advice— and  it  was  not  until  after  he  had 
reached  the  latter  place,  that  the  traveller  decided  to  embark 
for  Alexandria  instead  of  the  Piraeus.     The  Lloyd  steamei 
for  Egypt  was  ready  to  start,  and  among  the  last  arrivals 
on  board  was  the  German.     One  of  the  passengers  already 
on  board  w.as  an  American,  bound  for  the  White  Nile.    A 
chance  remark  led  to  an  acquaintance,  the  two  travelled 
together  to  the  Nubian  frontier,  and  parted  under  the  palm- 
trees  at  Assouan,  as  friends  for  life. 

The  rest  of  the  chain  is  easily  followed.  I  promised  to 
visit  my  friend  in  his  ThUringian  home.  In  August  of  the 
following  year  I  returned  from  the  Orient  by  way  of  Italy 
and  the  Tyrol,  and  reached  Gotha  towards  the  end  of  Sep- 
tember.  The  ten  days  to  which  I  had  limited  my  stay, 
previous  to  leaving  for  China  and  Japan,  extended  to 

6* 


130 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


Ik 


f= 


twenty  or  more  under  the  influence  of  true  German  hos- 
pitality. A  part  of  the  entertainment,  with  anticipatory 
descriptions  of  which  my  friend  had  often  beguiled  the 
sweet  Egyptian  twilights,  was  a  journey  through  the  ThU- 
ringian  Forest.  The  season  had  been  cold,  and  the  autumn 
was  fast  waning  at  the  time  of  my  arrival,  so  we  started 
in  a  day  or  two  afterwards. 

Taking  the  road  to  Eisenach,  we  climbed  the  hill  of  the 
"Wartburg,  on  a  sunny  morning.  The  famous  old  castle, 
which  has  since  been  restored  to  its  ancient  condition,  as 
near  as  can  be  ascertained,  was  at  that  time  very  dilapi- 
dated, although  still  habitable.  It  is  known  to  us  princi- 
pally from  the  fact  that  Luther  was  sheltered  within  its 
walls  for  a  year,  and  there  completed  his  translation  of  the 
Bible ;  but  to  the  German  it  is  rich  in  historical  associa- 
tions.  Here  lived  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  wife  of  the  Land- 
grave Ludwig  (read  Charles  Kingsley's  "Saint's  Tra- 
gedy"), whose  holy  charity  not  only  justified  her  in  the 
utterance  of  a  lie,  but  procured  a  miracle  to  confirm  it. 
Sausages  and  cold  chickens  turned  to  roses  in  her  apron, 
that  her  lord  migh",  not  see  and  censure  her  lavish  gifts  to 
the  poor.  Here,  also,  in  1207,  occurred  the  famous  Sdn- 
gerkneg,  or  Battle  of  the  Troubadours,  in  which  the  rcv 
uowned  Minnesingers,  Hcinrich  vou  Ofterdingcn,  Walter 
von  der  Vogelweidc,  and  "Wolfram  von  Eschenbach,  took 
part.  Few  other  spots  in  Germany  shine  so  brightly  in 
knightly  and  ecclesiastical  story. 

Luther's  room  is  still  preser*  ed  in  its  original  bareness 
and  simplicity.  A  single  window  looks  westward  over  the 
wooded  hills  •  a  huge  stove  of  earthen  tiles,  a  table,  and 


A   Walk  TIU^OUGH   THE  TIIUKirGIAN   FOKEST.         131 

some  chairs   of  ro.igh  oak,  arc  the  only  funiiturc.    The 
iaruous  ii.k-blotch  on  the  wall  is  conscientiously  renewed 
every  tune  the  room  is  whitewashed.    An  original  portrait 
of  Luther,  his   autograph,  and  the   plain  suit  of  armor 
which  he  wore,  as  "Squire   George,"  are  also  preserved 
here.    The  visitors'  book  lay  open  upon  the  table  where 
he  was  wont  to  write.    As  I  approached  it  for  the  pur- 
pose  of  inscribing  my  name,  the  last  entry  on  the  page 
(written  only  the  day  before)  was ;  "  Thomas  Carlyle,  in 
Luther^a  room,  full  of  reverence:^    On  visiting  the  same 
room,  two  years  ago,  I  was  confronted  by  a  stout,  full- 
bearded,  handsome  gentleman,  who  appeared  to  be  very 
much  at  home  there.     Supposing  him  to  be  an  artist,  I 
brushed  past  him  into  the  room.     He  looked  very  fixedly 
ut  me;  but  artists  have  a  way  of  examining  faces,  so  I 
paid  no  attention  to  it.    He  was  the  reigniui^  Duke  of 
Saxe-Weimar. 

In  the  armory  there  is  a  small  but  very  curious  coUeo- 
tion  of  weapons  and  coats  of  maH.    Among  them  is  that 
of  Kunz  von  Kaufimgeu,  who  carried  off  the  two  young 
princes,  progenitors  of  the  Ernestine  and  Albertine  lines 
of  the  House  of  Saxony.    The  old  walls  have  been  replas- 
tercd  and  adorned  with  frescoes  representing  the  history  • 
of  Elizabeth  of  Hungar-    and  famous  incidents  in  the 
Lives  of  the  Landgrrves  of  ThUringia.     There  is  Hermann 
with  his  hunters,  on  the  site  of  the  castle,  charmed  with 
the  view,  and  exclaiming :  «  Wait,  mountain,  and  I'll  build 
a  fortress  upc   you!"  (whence  the    name   Wartburg)  ; 
there  Ludwig  walks   unarmed  against   the    escaped  lion,' 
and  drives  him  back  to  bis  den ;  and  there  another  Land! 


if 


132 


AT   IIOMK   ANO    AllilOAP. 


gravp,  whoso  nnmo  T  have  forgotten,  proudly  exhibits  his 
moauH  of  (lefem-e  to  the  German  Emperor.  When  tho 
latter,  who  was  visitincf  him,  remarked  that  his  castle  was 
without  walK  the  Landgrave  replied :  "  I  wil!  hIjow  your 
Majesty  my  walls  to-morrow."  Tho  next  niorninjr,  tho 
Emperor  was  aroused  by  tho  sound  of  trumpets.  Tho 
Landgrave  eonducted  him  to  a  balcony,  whence  he  beheld 
tho  eaatlo  surrounded  by  a  triple  circle  of  armed  men. 
"  There,  your  Majesty ! "  said  ho ;  "  a  living  wall  is  tho 
best." 

Leaving  the  Wartburg,  wo  wandered  down  into  tho 
deep  Marienthal,  or  Olenmary,  a  picturesque  valley,  formed 
by  tho  junction  of  two  or  three  narrow  dells.  A  pile  of 
rocks  on  our  letl  is  called  the  INIaiden's  Den,  from  an  old 
tradition  that  a  princess,  for  some  misdeed,  was  shut  up 
within  them,  only  to  bo  released  when  some  one  should 
say  "  God  bless  you ! "  twelve  times  in  succession,  in 
answer  to  her  sneezing.  As  sho  can  only  try  tho  experi- 
ment at  midnight,  it  is  needless  to  say  that  sho  is  still  con- 
fined there.  Once,  indeed,  a  belated  knight  made  the  proper 
response  to  eleven  sneezes,  but  when  tho  twelfth  came, 
his  patience  gave  way,  and  ho  uncourteously  exclaimed : 
"  Oh !  the  devil  take  you ! " 

At  tho  end  of  the  valley  wo  entered  tho  Annathal, 
•which  is  a  curious  natural  split,  extending  for  more  than  a 
mile  through  the  mountains.  Formerly  it  was  the  bed  of 
an  impetuous  little  stream,  now  bridged  over  for  nearly  the 
whole  distance,  so  that  the  roar  of  waters  is  constantly 
beneath  your  feet  as  you  walk  between  the  twisted  walls 
of  rock.    The  foliage  of  the  forest  on  the  summit  of  the 


A    WALK  TIIROUOn   TIIR   TUCRINOIAN  FOHKST.         Ifl.T 

ollffs  oompletcly  intercepts  the  sky;  brilliant  mosses  cover 
the  moist  H  Jl.,  an.l  fringes  of  giant  fen.  spring  fron.  every 
crevce.    Deep,  r.,oI,  .lark,  and  redolent  of  woodland  aroma, 
.t  resend.Ies  a  dell  in  fairylan.l,  and  the  fens  and  harebells 
were  yet  vibrating  from  the  feet  of  .he  retreating  dves,  as 
we  passed  along.    Fresh  :  ,.a,  the  blazing  Orient,  where 
tho  three  delights  of  life  are  shade,  moisture,  and  verdure 
I  was  enchanted  with  tho  successive  beauties  which  our 
semi-subterranean  path  unfolded. 

Emerging,  at  last,  upon  an  open  height,  we  found  an 
mn,  with  the  ambitious  name  of  the  Lofty  Sun,  where  we 
ate  fresh  mount  du-trout  in  an   arbor  of  clipped  lindens. 
Thence  a  path  of  some  miles  over  the  hills  brought  us  to 
the  village  of  liuhln,  flunou.s  through  all  Germany  for  its 
meerschaum  pipes  and  beautiful  girls.     At  the  inn  where 
we  stopped,  it  was  the  eve  of  a  wedding-day.     The  land- 
lord's  daughter,  in  whom  I  found  the  reputation  of  the 
village  justified,  was  to  be  man-ied  on  the  morrow,  and  the 
kitcnen  was  full  of  rosy  damsels,  baking  and  brewing  with 
m.ght  and  main.     The  bride-not  without  a  pretty  blush- 
brought  us  each  a  glass  of  wine  and  a  piece  of  cake,  and 
we,  of  course,  drank  to  her  .v  edded  happiness.     But  our 
quarters  for  the  night  lay  beyond  another  and  higher  moun- 
tam,  and  the  dusk  was  gathering  in  the  deep  valley 

Had  we  not  taken  a  guide,  we  should  have  lost  our  way 
m  the  forest.  Finally,  a  sparkle  appeared  ahead-then  a 
broad  flame,  gilding  the  white  trunks  of  the  beech-trees 
and  brightening  the  gold  of  their  autumnal  leaves.  The 
forester  was  at  his  post,  uwaituig  our  coming,  at  the  ducal 
J'"nting    lodge    on    the    mountain.     The    costly   timber 


f 


%. 


!»■_  -.  ,  ■-  ^ .  '^    ' 


134 


AT   nOME    AND    ARUOAD. 


crackled  on  the  >,onfiro  ho  had  made,  and  the  torch  of 
our  encampment  was  seen  by  many  a  distant  village. 
There  was  a  supply  of  beer,  potatoes,  black  bread,  alid 
sausage—true  hurter's  fare— and  our  jovial  supper  was 
made  by  the  firelight.  We  talked  of  Egypt,  and  the 
forester  listened,  only  repeathig  now  and  then,  with  heart> 
emphasis :  "To  thiak  that  it  should  happen  so !  That  you 
two  should  meet,  away  in  that  savage  country,  and  here 
you  a.-e  by  my  fire !  »  This  was  my  first  acquaintance  with 
the  forester,  who  was  the  la.*  friend  to  bid  me  fareweU  at 
Hamburg,  on  my  last  return  from  Europe. 

We  slept  on  a  bed  of  hay  in  the  lodge,  washed  our  faces 
in  the  cold  mountain  spring,  anu  ate  ^ur  breakfast  by  a 
new  fire.     During  the  forenoon  our  route  lay  westward 
over  the  mountains  to  Altenstein,  a  summer  residence  of 
the  Duke  of  Meiningen.    As  ,ve  approached  the  castle,  the 
duke  himself— a  remarkably  handsome  man,  plainly  dressed 
in  a  green  frock-coat  and  black  felt  hat— passed  us  on  ine 
lawn.     He  answered  our  salutations  with  a  friendly  bow. 
We  lingered  awhile  on  the  terrace,  which  cor.mands  a 
lovely  view,  stretching  away  over  leagues  of  valley-land  to 
the  mountains  of  the  Rhon.    In  fact,  the  castle  and  park 
of  Altenstein  occupy  the  whole  of  a  natural  mountain-ter- 
race, lifted  high  above  the  subject  lands.    The  declivity, 
leading  down  to   tl  -  mineral  springs  of  Liebenstein,  is 
interrupted  by  bold  and  picturesque  formations  of  rock. 
We  visited  the  Altar,  the  Basket  of  Flowers,  the  PalpU, 
and  various  curious  basaltic  piles,  and  finally  reaching  the 
Giant's  Harp,  threw  ourselves  down  on  the  warm  grass  to 
rest.    Here,  in  a  narrow,  perpendicular  cleft,  between  two 


,_-jTJ' 


-  :.-:  ^       ~'s'^'^::-i  ■~-  r 


'■   WALK   TMBOUOH  TBE  T„6r,™,*.V   Po„E»T.         J  35 

rocV  piUar,.  thirt,  f^,  hi^,,  „,„,  ,^^.^ 

bt .  :,:r :  "^  ■"'  ^"-  "-'•  '^«  *« « coi^ 

7  •  "'°  "'""""«  »f  "Weh,  wlH.n  there  i,  anv 

The  mountains  around  loomed  ,0%  -.hrough  soldeu 
apor  a,  we  lay  upon  the  lonely  hilMd',  eJ„  „„  1 

i„„  ■  l-resmtly  a  sweet,  timorous,  penetrat- 

n«  tone  grew  upon  the  air,  falling  and  swelling  i'  app  a . 

g  pulsafons-then   a  ehorus  of  many  notes,!o  bk,^.^ 

m  one  dehcate  breath  of  harmony  that  yo^  Jr„ot 

whether  they  were  sad  or  jubUant;  and  finally,  Xta^ 

courage,  the  fnll  volume  of  wandering  sound  wr!ppe  ^^ 

_     ts  powerful  embraee.    Tones  that  traversed  aflsl 

We  heard  the  timbrel  of  Miriam,  the  shawms  and  duT 

::;"  f  °;f  ■  '-^  ''•^'  °"»P'.thah,and  the  horey  d 
n^^adngau  of  Solomon-Delphic  strains  Trom  the  hoi  w! 

o    "^^"o    a  note  01  clc'spaiiinr   Jnno-;,inr  ^e 
^blc,  unsatisfied  pa,sio„,  whieh^tru^.X  ;";":: 
-ng  nerve  until  it  reaehed  the  deepest  eelf  of  the  ^n 
Jo,  th.s  «  not  to  be  borne  any  longer,"  said  my  fril," ' 

theX^reXrtL::'"^'  ^'f  '  '^°-'  "^  ^^ 

"It "  consumes  ray  life  f  » 

At  Liebenstein  we  saw  the  little  grotto,  drank  the  dis- 


■K 


130 


AT   IIOMT   AJO)   ABUOAD. 


agreeable  water,  and  then  continued  our  journey  through 
the  valleys  on  the  southern  slope  of  the  Thuringian  Moun- 
tains. At  dusk  we  reached  the  inn  on  the  Inselsberg,  one 
of  the  highest  summits,  3,000  ffeet  above  the  sea.  There, 
on  a  clear  day,  you  stand  "  ringed  with  the  azure  world." 
The  view  reaches  from  the  Brocken,  seventy  miles  in  the 
North,  to  the  tops  of  the  Franconian  mountains.  Friends 
from  Gotha  had  come  to  meet  us,  and  we  passed  the  even- 
ing comfortably  beside  a  cheerful  fire.  In  the  morning  we 
w  ked  down  the  sunny  side  of  the  mountain  to  Friedrichs- 
roda,  a  charming  village,  which  in  summer  is  a  favorite 
resort  of  the  Berliners.  In  the  street  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  Wilhelra,  one  of  the  Brothers  Grimm,  the  great  lexico- 
graphers of  Germany. 

In  the  afternoon,  we  continued  our  journey  in  a  more 
luxurious  style,  in  my  friend's  carriage.  Following  the 
green  Alpine  dell  behind  Friedrichsroda,  we  mounted  to 
the  summit  ridge  of  the  mountains,  along  which  runs  an 
ancient  road,  called  the  Rennstieg,  traversing  their  whole 
extent,  from  Eis*iach  down  to  the  bord3r8  of  Franconia. 
At  the  top,  on  the  edge  of  the  fir  forest,  stands  a  beer- 
tavern,  with  this  enticing  sign  : 

"  I  am  tho  landlord  of  the  Wolf; 
Ye  travellers,  come  to  me; 
For  you,  the  landlord  ia  no  woli^ — 
A  little  lamb  is  he  I " 


"  Ho  I  thou  lambkin  !  thou  wolf  in  sh  "iep's  clothing  1 
bring  us  two  aeidls  of  beer ! "  cried  out  my  friend.  "  Here, 
you  lions  in  asses'  hides,  or  asses  in  lions'  hides — which 


A   WALK  THROUGH   THE   THURINQIAN   FOREST.         137 

is  it  ?  "-answered  the  landlord,  as  he  brought  the  foaming 
glasses.    I  warrant  the  Berlin  cockneys,  who  manage  to 
climb  hither  in  summer  (with  many  exclamations  of  "  Ach 
Jott! »)  get  as  good  wit  as  they  give,  and  a  little  better 

Ram  was  brewing,  and  the  raw  clouds  now  and  then  tore 
their  skirts  in  the  tops  of  the  firs  as  we  drove  along  the 
Rennstieg.     Meadows  that  widened  as  they  descended, 
shone  with  a  gleam  that  counterfeited  sunshine,  between 
the  dark  shores  of  the  forest.     This  is  the  characteristic 
charm  of  the  Thtiringian  Mountams-the  rare  and  incom- 
parable  beauty  which  distinguishes  this  region  above  aU 
other  portions  of  Germany-its  meadows  of  perfect  eme- 
rald, never  barren  of  blossoms,  framed  in  dark,  magnifi- 
cent  woods,  or  overhung  with  sheer  waUs  of  rock     It  is 
a  character  of  landscape  which  only  the  German  language 
can  properly  describe.     We  have  no  such   superb  words 
m  English  as  Waldlust  and  Waldeinmmkeit. 

Our  destination  for  the  night  was  the  SchmUeke,  a  Uttle 
mn  kept  by  an  original  character  named  Father  Joel,  and 
the  highest  inhabited  dwelling  in  the  ThUringian  Forest 
Far  and  wide  through  Saxe-Coburg  and  the  r^eighboring 
Duchies  every  one  knew  Father  Joel,  and  many  of  his  witty 
saymgs  will  remain  in  circulation  for  a  generation  to  come 
We  found  the   old  man  rather  ill  and  broken:  he  died 
m  the  following   year.     "How  goes  it.   Father  Joel?" 
asked  my  friend.    «  Ah,»  he  replied,  «  badly,  badly ;  I  have 
no  appetite.    I  can   eat  nothing  but  partridges,  and  not 
more  than  three  of  them."    No  one  could  prepare  veni- 
son, trout.  Pheasants,  hares,  or  coffee,  like  Joel's  wife,  aud 
the  wine-cellar  had  its  treasures,  not  to  be  enjoyed  by  every 


^^: 

-m 

;^';--f.i 

-.--,-.:  T-.-a 

r,'"^ 

^■-J 

^^i^. 

AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

chance  visitor.  My  friend  was  the  bearer  of  a  message 
from  some  of  the  members  of  the  Ministerial  Cabinet,  thit 
they  would  dine  at  the  SchmUcke  on  the  morrow;  but  he 
was  wise  enough  not  to  mention  it  until  our  own  supper  had 
been  secured.  We  certainly  should  othermse  have  lost 
that  marvellous  haunch  of  venison,  which  still  hngers  in 
my  memory  as  the  realization  of  an  ideal  to  be  enjoyed 
only  once  in  a  lifetime. 

Father  Joel's  album  was  a  curiosity.    Poets  had  written 
impromptus  for  him,  artists  sketched  himself  and  his  bounti- 
ful table,  composers  scored  down  hunting-songs  or  pathetic 
farewells,  and  philosophers  and  lawgivers  perpetrated  stiff 
puns  in  his  praise.     I  added  after  my  name,  as  I  had  done 
at  the  Inselsberg,  ^^on  the  way  from    Central  Africa  *o 
Japan;^  which  was  literally  true,  and  gave  my  autograph 
an  especial  value  in  the  eyes  of  the  old  man.     "Father 
Joel,"   said  my  friend,  "have  you  said  any  funny  things 
lately?"     "Ah!  that  is  past,"  said  he,  sadly;  "I  am  done 
with  my  fun,  and  nothing  to  show  for  it.     You  remember 
what  I  said  to  the  old  Duke  ?"     «  What  was  that  ?"  I  asked. 
"Well,  the  old  Highness  was  here  once— a  good-humored 
man   he  was— and,  during  dinner,  he  pestered  me  with : 
'Joel,  say  a  funny  thing— say  a  funny  thing!'    At  last,  I 
stopped  in  the  door,  as  I  was  going  out,  and  said :  'Excuse 
me.  Highness;  I'm  afraid  to  do  it.»    'Why  afraid?'  ho 
asked.     'For  fear  your  Highness  would  give  me  the  cross 
of  the  Ernestine  Ord-.-!'  said  I,  shutting  the  door  behind 
me."    The  Duke  had  been  so  lavish  in  bestowing  the  order, 
that  it  had  come  to  be  a  cheap  honor ;  and  Father  Joel's 
re.nark  was  a  homo-thrust.    It  is  said  that  hb  Highness  took 


A   WALK   THROUGH   THE  THUKIXGIAN   FOKEST.  139 

the  hint,  and  profited  by  it.  Otlier  sovereigns  might  do 
the  same  thing.  It  is  a  common  saying,  in  Middle  Ger- 
many:  «In  Prussia  there  are  two  things  you  cannot  escape 
—death  and  the  Order  of  the  Red  Eagle." 

Bidding  farewell  to  Father  Joel-a  last  one  for  me-in 
the  morning,  we  spent  the  day  in  visiting  Elgersburg  and 
Ilmenau,   with   their  water-cure   and   pine-needle-bathin^ 
establishments,  and,  late  in  the  afternoon,  reached  Schwarz! 
biu-g,  on  the  Saale-one  of  the  seats  of  the  princely  line  of 
Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt.    The  town  is  built  on  a  low  cape 
of  the  mountains,  projecting  into  a  deep,  romantic  valley. 
Hurdreds  of  deer  were  feeding  on  the  castle  meadows,  and 
from  the  forests  rising  beyond  sounded  the  trumpet-call 
of  the  stag.     A  short  distance  further  up  the  valley  is 
Rudolstadt-classic  with  the  memories  of  Goethe,  He.der 
Schiller,  and  Jean  Paul.  ' 

We  had  now  reached  the  termination  of  the  range  known 
a.  the  ThUringian  Forest,  but  our  return  journey  to  Gotha 
the  next  day,  embraced  landscapes  of  equal  beauty  to  those 
we  had  enjoyed.    We  descended  the  Saale  to  an  open  valley 
called,  on  account  of  its  richness  and  loveliness,  the  Chrysol 
prase,  thence  crossed  the  base  of  the  mountains  westward 
to  Paulmzelle,  where  there  is  a  ruined  cloister  of  the  eleventh 
century    in    admirable    preservation,    and    sped    rapidly 
through  ram  and  darkness  over  the  rolling  plain  to  Gotha^ 
.vhich  we  reached  late  at  night.    This  was  my  first  but  not 
my  last  tnp  over  and  among  those  dear  and  glorious  hiUs 


4- 


^'■^i 


:f 


If!'*! 


* 

1 


XIII. 


MY  SUPERNATURAL  EXPERIENCES. 


Let  sceptical,  hard,  matter-of-fact  men  talk  as  they  may, 
there  is  a  lingering  belief  in  the  possibility  of  occasional 
comjnunication  bevween  the  natural  and  the  supernatural — 
the  visible  and  the  invisible  world — inherent  in  human 
nature.  There  are  not  many  persons  whose  lives  do  not 
contain  at  least  some  few  occurrences,  which  are  incapable 
of  being  satisfactorily  explained  by  any  known  laws — 
remarkable  presentiments,  coincidences,  and  sometimes  ap- 
paritions, even,  which  seem  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of 
accident  or  chance,  and  overcome  us  with  a  special  wonder. 
The  error,  however,  is  generally  on  the  side  of  credulity. 
Men  are  reluctant  to  accept  f»ny  rational  interpretation  of 
such  things,  since  the  veil  which  they  believe  to  have  been 
a<ritated,  if  not  lifted,  is  thereby  rendered  as  still  and  im- 
penetrable  as  before.  Tlie  rcmarkablft  proval'.^nce  of 
"Spiritualism,"   in  spite  of  its  disgusting  puerilities,  can 


m- 


MY  SUPEBNATUEAL   EXPEEIENCES.  141 

only  be  accounted  for  in  this  way.  A  sort  of  mental  epilepsy 
-infectious,  as  weU  as  congenital-receives  the  powerful 
aid  of  personal  egotism;  and  the  result  is  a  tendency  to 
reject  all  explanations  which  discredit  the  supernatural 
theory.  When  the  nature  of  Mind,  and  the  laws  which 
govern  it,  are  as  weU  understood  as  th.  ;.  of  Matter,  much 
that  is  now  wrapped  in  mystery  will  b.  clear  and  plain. 

I  propose,  simply,  to  narrate  a  few  incidents  which  lie 
outside  the  range  of  ordinary  experience,  attaching  to  each 
one  my  own  interpretation.     Yv^ere  facts  of  this  character 
more  generally  noted,  we  might  the  more  readily  proceed 
to  the  deduction  of  some  general  law ;  but  if  the  proportion 
of  men  who  really  think  for  themselves  is  small,  how  much 
smaller  is  the  number  who  are  capable  of  studymg,  with 
introverted  vision,  the  operations  of  their  own  mmds!     I 
have  found  but  one  man,  as  yet, who  ascertahied,  by  self-ex- 
periment, that  the  ecstatic  condition  of  the  so-called  "spiri- 
tual  mediums"  may  be  graduaUy  developed  and  produced 
at  will.     That  lazy  state  of  dreamy  reverie,  which  is  the 
favorite  dissipation  of  certain  minds,  is  but  a  milder  form 
of  the  same  disease. 

The  first  instance  I  shall  relate  cannot  strictly  be  called 
supernatural,  since-even  if  true-it  is,  at  the  best,  but  a 
romantic  adventure.  Uut,  I  think,  it  illustrates  the  possi- 
bility  of  two  simultaneous  conditions  of  the  mind— one 
awake,  through  the  medium  of  the  senses;  the  other  still 
wandering  among  the  phantasms  of  sleep.  (Would  a  mo- 
mentary difference  in  the  action  of  the  two  lobes  of  the 
brain  explain  this?)  But  to  the  story  : 
Li  December,  1845,  I  was  travelling  on  foot  from  Flo- 


ipi^^ms^im^ 


msmm 


n 


142 


AT   HOM£   AND   ABBOAD. 


■]^^ 


rence  to  Rome.     Chill  rain-storms  swept  the  Apennines.    I 
plodded  wearily  along,  wet  to  the  skin,  and  occasionally 
stopping  for  shelter  at  the  rude  inns  frequented  by  the 
peasants,     I  think  it  was  the  fourth  day  of  my  journey, 
when  I  was  obliged,  by  the  violence  of  the  storm,  to  take 
shelter  in  a  lonely  little  tavern,  somewhere  between  Arezzo 
ond  the  Lake  of  Thrasyraene.     "VVe  (I  had  one  companion ) 
were  kindly  received,  and  piaced  in  opposite  corners  of  the 
great,  open  fire-place,  to  dry  our  clothes  by  a  bright  blaze  of 
brushwood.    The  family  consisted   of   an  old   woman,   a 
beautiful  girl  of  twenty,  and  three  children.     There  Avere 
also  two  men,  of  middle  age ;  but  it  was  evident,  from  the 
conversation,  that  they  had  come  down  from  the  neighbor- 
ing mountains.    As  the  evening  closed  in,  and  a  dreary 
rain  beat  against  the  windows,  they  drcAV  nearer  the  fire ; 
and  the  conversation  became  so  animated  that  I  could,  with 
difficulty,  catch  the  meaning  of  their  words.     While  we 
were  taking  our  scanty  supper  of  eggs,  maccaroni,  and 
wine,  at  a  table  in  the  farther  corner  of  the  kitchen,  I  re- 
marked that  their  conversation  was  carried  on  m  whispers, 
of  which  I  could  only  detect  the  words  "  robbers"  and  ''to- 
night" frequently  repeated. 

I  paid  no  particular  attention  to  this  circumstance,  but 
conversed  with  the  family  for  an  hour  or  two,  as  far  as  my 
limited  Italian  would  go.  The  girl  had  one  of  those  sweet 
Madonna  faces — only  with  an  expression  of  more  passion 
and  less  purity — which  are  not  unusual  in  Italy.  Her  man- 
ner towards  us  was  marked  by  a  cheerful  friendliness ;  but 
the  men  were  silent  and  uncommunicative.  We  w^ent  early 
to  bed,  being  sorely  fatigued.     There  was  but  one  bed- 


m^:^^^ 


^^^1^ 

-■^^r?'" 


MY   SUPKRXATURAL   EXPERIENCES.  I43 

room-a  large  loft  over  the  kitchen-in  which  were  two  or 
three  coarse  couches.  One  of  these  was  given  to  os  twain 
—the  old  woman  occupying  another,  and  the  men  a  third. 
Ours  stood  alone  in  one  end  of  the  loft,  opposite  the  land- 
ing-which  was  covered  by  a  hatch-and  I  took  the  outer 
side  of  the  bed,  with  my  face  towards  the  staircase.  Over 
the  landing  was  a  single  window,  in  the  gable  end  of  the 
hut,  admitting  a  little  light  from  the  sky. 

I  soon  fell  into  a  sound  sleep,  which  was  not  broken  when 
the  old  woman  and  the  two  men  crept  to  their  beds.    My 
companion,  with  his  face  to  the  waU,  was  as  insensible  as  a 
log.     Towards  midnight,  however,  I  suddenly  awoke.    The 
clouds  were  thinner,  and  the  moon,  behind  them,  shed 
light  enough  to  enable  me  to  distinguish,  though  dimly,  the 
objects  in  the  room.     The  sleepers  all  breathed  heavily' and 
regularly;  and  I  was  about  giving  myself  up  to  slumber 
again,  when  I  heard  voices  in  the  kitchen  below.    Presently 
the  door  leading  to  the  staircase  was  opened,  and  cautious 
feet  commenced  ascending  the  steps.    As  the  hatch  was 
lifted,  and  the  forms  appeared,  drawn   in  black  outline 
against  the  window,  I  recognised  the  young  girl,  accompa- 
nied by  a  man  whom  I  had  not  seen  before.     There  was  a 
moment's  pause,  while  the  latter  appeared  to  be  lookin.. 
around  the  loft,  and  then  I  heard  the  words:  "Which  ai^ 
they?"  "There!"  said  the  girl,  in  a  low  tone;  "but  are 
the/  really  coming?"    A  whispered  consultation  ensued, 
of  which  I  could  only  distinguish  that  her  tones  had  a 
character  of  persuasion  or  entreaty.     At  last  the  man  said; 
"They  will  be  here  soon;  but  I  will  leave  the  sign,"  or 
Boraeth:  ig  to  the  same  effect-for  I  cannot  remember  his 


; 


144 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


jMX'ciso  words,  lie  then  approached  our  bed  on  tip-too.  I 
closed  luy  e}'e8,  a!»d  counterfeited  8leej> ;  hut  I  lelt  tlie  light 
niovciuent  of  a  hand  about  the  head  of  the  bed — and  once 
the  tips  of  fingers  touched  my  neck.  The  two  then  with- 
drew noiselessly  to  the  kitchen. 

I  felt  no  fear — but  an  intense  curiosity  to  know  the 
meaninc;  of  this.  It  was  too  dark  to  discover  what  was 
the  sign  referred  to ;  and  in  half  an  hour  I  had  forgotten  all 
about  it,  for  I  was  sound  asleep.  After  two  hours,  as  it 
seemed  to  me,  I  was  a  second  time  awakened  by  footsteps 
on  the  stairs.  The  first  mysterious  visit  immediately  recur- 
red to  my  mind,  and  I  waited,  in  great  anxiety,  for  further 
developments.  The  hatch  was  raised,  as  before ;  but  this 
time  there  were  two  men,  neither  of  whom  ai)peared  to  bo 
the  former  visitor.  One  of  them  carried  a  small  lantern, 
wrapped  in  a  handkerchief,  so  as  almost  completely  to  muf- 
fle the  light.  When  they  turned  towards  the  bed,  I  closed 
my  eyes,  and  imitated  the  respiration  of  sleej),  lest  I  should 
be  caught  watching.  I  believe,  however,  that  my  heart 
beat  a  little  faster  than  usual.  I  heard  stealthy  tbotsteps, 
inaudible  whis^pers,  and  then  a  low  exclamation :  '•'■Here  is 
the  sign  I "  The  two  came  to  tlio  liead  of  my  bed,  and 
apparently  made  a  cautious  examination  ;  a  few  more 
whispers  followed,  and  they  retreated  down  stairs.  After 
they  were  gone,  I  opened  my  eyes,  and  asked  myself:  — "Is 
all  this  real  ?"  A  few  muffled  sounds  came  up  from  the 
kitchen,  and  then  all  was  still.  There  was  the  window, 
with  its  square  of  dim,  stormy  sky  ;  there  were  the  beds, 
barely  visible  in  the  gl<^om  ;  and  n^y  companion  still  snored, 
with  his  face  to  the  wall.    I  cogitated  long  upon  this  singu- 


MY   SUPBRNAWRAL   EXPERIENCES.  I45 

lar  adventure;  but  the  knowledge  that  if  there  had  really 
l.ocn  any  danger  to  our  lives  or  scanty  property,  it  was  now 
over,  qiiicted  my  approhensions-and  I  finally  slept  again. 
When  we  arose  at  daybreak,  according  to  our  custom,  ' 
naturally  examined  the  bed  for  some  trace  of  the  visit;  but 
in  the  indistinct  light,  I  detected  nothing.    The  girl  was  as 
calm  and   cheerful   as   ever;  and   though  I  watched  her 
sharply,   I  found   in   her  manner  no  justification  of  my 
suspicions.    We  paid  our  light  bill,  and  took  to  the  road 
agam,  accompanied  by  friendly  ^^bnon  viaggios^^  from  all. 
Not  till  then  did  I  relate  to  my  companion  the  incidents  of 
the  night.    He  had  travelled  on  the  "through  train"  of 
Sleep,  without  .hange  of  cars,  and,  of  course,  had  seen  and 
heard  nothing.     The  circumstances  were  so  curious  and 
inexplicable,  as  to  shake  a  little  my  own  faith  in  their  real- 
ity.   The  impression  was  that  of  actual  fact-every  feature 
d.stmct  and  tangible.     The  figures,  the  voices,  the  convor. 
sation  in  Italian-which  I  then  knew  out  imperfectly-wero 
real;  and  yet  the  whole  occurrence  was  as  improbable  aa 
the  wildest  adventure  of  a  dream. 

I  am  now  inclined  to  believe  that  the  whole  thing  was 
one  of  those  rare  pranks  which  the  mind  sometimes  plays 
•on  that  border  realm  between  sleeping  and  waking,  when  a 
second  of  time  frequently  contains  the  impressions  of  years  • 
in  other  words,  that  I  was  really  awake  with  the  eyes,  and 
saw  the  loft  in  which  I  lay;  while  the  mind,  excited  by  the 
fragmentary  .^ords  we  had  heard  at  supper,  created  the 
rest.  In  this  case,  the  only  thing  remarkable  about  the 
story  would  be  the  coherenco  between  the  two  visits;  but 
this  coherence,  again,  would  be  less  singular  in  the  interme- 

7 


nT^::- 


I 


!"g|  I    '     ■ 


lie 


AT   HOME   AND   ABEOAD. 


diate  state  referred  to,  than  in  the  dreams  of  a  perfect 
Bleep.  It  is  possible  that  tlie  incident  was  real:  many 
persons  would  have  accepted  it  as  being  so  ;  but  I  did  r.ot 
feel  sure  enough  of  its  reality  to  include  it  in  my  narrative 
of  travel.  It  is  certainly  more  valuable  as  an  illustration  of 
the  singular  force  and  vividness  which  mental  impressions 
attain,  when  the  senses  are  in  conscious  operation,  than  as 
a  piece  of  actual  experience. 

An  undoubted  instance  of  the  same  k.  d  hai)pened  to 
me,  while  in  California,  in  November,  1849.     Starting  fioni 
Sacramento,  on  horseback,  for  a  journey  to  the  Mokelunme 
and  the  American  Fork,  I  Avas  detained  three  days  at  a 
lonely  ranche  near  the  Cosumne  River,  oy  a  violent  storm 
of  rain.     On  the  fourth  morning,  the  clouds  broke  away. 
I  saddled,  swam  the  river,  and  took  a  faint  traM  leadijig 
over  the  plains,  intending  to  make  Hick's  Ranche,  twenty- 
four  miles   distant,   among  the  foot-hills    of   the    Sierra 
Nevada.     Very  soon,  however,  I  lost  the  trail,  which  had 
been  completely  washed  out  by  the  rain.     Riding  at  hazard 
towards  the  mountains,  a  sudden  blind  instinct — which  I 
never  felt  before,  and  caimot  intelligibly  describe — told  me 
to  strike  a  bee-line  in  a  certain  direction,     I  tiiereupon  took 
my  bearings  by  the  distant  snowy  peaks,  and  rode  slowly, 
on,  my  mare  sinking  to  her  knees  at  every  step  in  the  loose, 
satur.ited  soil.     It  was  during  this  ride  that  I  came  upon 
four  grizzly  bears,  eating  acorns  in  a  little  grove  of  oaks. 
Our  interview   was  like  that  of  two  Englishmen   in  the 
desert :  a  momentn-    pause— a  long  stare— and  each  hurries 
to  get  out  of  sight  of  the  other.    To  be  candid,  I  did  not 
desire  an  introduction. 


MT   8UPBENATCKAL  EXPERIENCES.  147 

I  made  such  slow  progress,  that  night  came  on  as  I  was 
entenng  the  foot-hills.     I  had  kept  my  boe-li„e  faithfully  all 
day,  and  when  I  halted  at  dusk,  in  a  little  wooded  dell 
blazed  two  trees,  so  that  I  might  resume  the  same  direction' 
in  the  morning.     Giving  my  mare  the  length  of  her  lasso, 
hat  she  might  crop  the  shrubs-as  there  was  no  grass  to 
be  had-I  built  up  a  large  bonfire  of  dead  limbs,  and  sat 
down  beside  it  on  a  fallen  tree.    There  was  no  moon,  but 
the  stars  twinkled  clearly  through  the  bare  branches  over- 
head    I  had  depended  on  reaching  the  ranche,  and  was 
therefore  without   provisions.     My   supper  consisted  of  a 
cigar  and  some  rain-water,  which  had  gathered  m  a  hollow. 
What  a  comfort  there  is  in  a  fire!  I  might  give  a  thrilling 
picture  of  my  sensations-lost,  alone,  and  famishing-which 
my  pecunious  reader  would  shudder  at,  behind  his  lobster- 
salad.     But  it  would  not  be  true.    I  felt  as  cozy  and  com- 
fortable as  if  before  my  own  wide  fire-place  in  the  oaken 
chamber,  and  the  starry  silence  of  the  night  fiUed  my  hea.t 
with  a  soothing  sense  of  happiness  and  peace. 

Taking  the  saddle  for  a  piliow,  I  wrapped  myself  in  my 
blanket,  and  lay  down,  with  my  back  to  the  field  and  my 
feet  to  the  fire.     But  my  slumbers  were  short  and  fitful 
The  neighborhood  was  famous  for  bears,  and  I  was  appre- 
hensive that  my  mare  would   take  fright,  get   loose,  and 
forsake  me.    So  I  lay  awake  half  an  hour  at  a  time,  watch- 
mg  the  culmination  of  the  stai-s  on  the  meridian  line  of  a 
slender  twig  over  my  head.    It  was,  perhaps,  an  hour  past 
midnight,  when,  as  I  thus  lay  with  open  eyes,  gazing  into 
the  eternal  beauty  of  Night,  I  became  conscious  of  a  deep 
murmuring  sound,  hke  that  of  a  rising  wind.     I  looked  at 


I 


148 


AT   HOUR  AND   ABROAD. 


the  trees  ;   every  branch  was  unmoved — yet  the  sound 
increased,  until  the  air  of  the  lonely  dell  seemed  to  vibrate 
with  its  burden.     A  strange  feeling  of  awe  and  expe*  tancy 
took  possession  of  me.     Not  a  dead  leaf  stirred  on  the 
boughs ;  while  the  mighty  sound— a  solemn  choral,  sung  by 
ten  thousand  voices— swept  down  from  the  hills,  and  rolled 
away  like  ret.  eating  thunder  over  the  plain.     It  was  no 
longer  the  roar  of  the  wind.     As  in  the  wandering  prelude 
of  an  organ  melody,  note  trod  upon  note  with  slow,  majes- 
tic footsteps,  until  they  gathered  to  a  theme,  and  then  came 
the  words,   simultaneously  chanted  by  an  immeasurable 
host :— "  Vlvant  terrestrice  /"    The  air  was  filled  with  the 
tremendous  sound,  which  seemed  to  sweep  near  the  euiface 
of  the  earth,  in  powerful  waves,  without  echo  or  reverbe- 
ration. 

Suddenly,  far  overhead,  in  the  depths  of  the  sky,  rang  a 
single,  clear,  piercing  voice,  of  unnatural  sweetness.  Be- 
yond the  reach  of  human  organs,  or  any  earthly  instrument, 
its  keen  alto  pierced  the  firmament  like  a  straight  white 
line  of  electric  fire.  As  it  shot  downwards,  gathering  in 
force,  thfc  vast  terrestrial  chorus  gradually  dispersed  into 
silence,  and  only  that  one  unearthl  ound  remained.  It 
vibrated  slowly  into  the  fragment  of  a  melody,  unlike  any 
which  had  ever  reached  my  ears — a  long,  undulating  cry  of 
victory  and  of  joy ;  while  the  words  "  Vivat  cceltim  /"  were 
^peated  more  and  more  faintly,  as  the  voice  slowly  with- 
drew, like  a  fading  beam  of  sunset,  into  the  abysses  of  the 
stars.    Ihen  all  was  silent  in  the  dell,  as  before. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  impression  produced  by 
this  wonderful  visitation.     I  slept  no  more  that  night ;  and 


UY  SUPJSBNATUBAL  KXPKEIKNCE8.  I49 

for  days  afterwards,  tho  piercing  sweetness  of  that  skyoy 
voice   rang  through  my  brain.     Walking  in  Broadway, 
years  later,  the  memory  of  it  has  flashed  across  my  mind' 
as  sharp  and  sudden  as  a  streak  of  lightning ;  and  if  it  now 
returns  more  faintly  and  less  frequently  than  before,  its 
wend  and  supernatural  character  remainc  the  same.     Yet, 
to  my  mind,  the  explanation  is  very  simple.     I  was  undeni! 
ably  awake  at  the  time,  and  co-Md  recall  neither  fact,  reflec- 
tion, nor  fancy  of  a  nature  to  suggest  the  sounds ;  but  I 
was  fatigued,  famished,  alone  in  the  wUdemess,  awed  by  the 
solemnity  and  silence  of  the  night-perhaps  even  mo-a  than 
I  8U9pected-and  my  excited  imagination,  acting  involunta- 
rily and  unconsciously  to  myself,  produced  the  illusion     I 
have  often  observed  that  complete  repose  of  the  body,  after 
great  fatigue,  is  accompanied-when  continued  to  a  certain 
time~with  a  corresponding  repose  of  volition,  a  passive 
condition  of  the  mind,  highly  favorable  to  the  independent 
action  of  the  imagination.    Then,  u  ever,  are  we  in  a  St 
state  to  hear 

"  The  airy  tongues  that  s-Uable  men's  names 
On  sandfl,  and  shores,  and  desert  wDdemesses." 

The  dream  is  none  the  less  a  wonder.  How  does  one 
faculty  of  the  brain  act,  so  far  beyond  our  conscious  know- 
ledge, as  to  astound  us  with  the  most  unexpected  images? 
Why  should  it  speak  in  the  Latin  tongue?  How  did  it 
compose  music-which  would  be  as  impossible  for  me  as 
to  write  a  Sanscrit  poem  ? 

There  is  another  interesting  foot  connected  with  this 
adventure.     When  daybreak  came,  I  saddled  my  mare; 


I;     31 


I 


! 


T  i 


i 


© 


p 


150 


AT   HOME   AXD   ABROAD. 


and,  With  the  aid  of  the  blazed  trees,  resumed  the  bee-line 
of  the  previous  day.  It  was  no  easy  matter  to  follow  it 
up  and  down  the  precipitous  hills ;  but  I  had  not  proceeded 
an  hour  before  my  course  was  blocked  by  the  very  ranche 
to  which  I  was  bound !  A  blind  animal  instinct  had  guided 
me  for  twenty  miles,  over  hill  and  plain,  and  hit  the  tar^^et 
exactly  in  the  centre.  * 

One  more  incident,  of  a  more  decided  character,  closes 
the  list  of  my  experiences.  During  my  last  visit  to  London, 
.  accepteu  an  invitation  to  pass  two  or  three  days  ^vIth  a 
banker,  who  occupies  a  fine  estate  on  the  Thames,  near 
^^  mdsor.  The  house-which  was  a  palace  in  its  extent  and 
tlK^^character  of  its  appointments-was  built  by  a  former 

Ear!  ot  T- ,  who  ruined  himself  in  erectin..  it      Gar 

dons,  graperies,  and  a  noble  park,  stretching  along  the  bank 
of  the  Thames,  completed  the  attractions  of  one  of  the  love- 
hest  places  in  England.  When  the  hour  for  rest  arrived  I 
was  conducted  to  a  chamber  looking  towards  the  towered 
entrance,  and  a  group  of  magnificent  cedars  cf  Lebanon 
on  the  lawn.  The  n^ght  was  misty  and  moonless-so  that' 
after  I  had  extinguished  the  candle,  the  room  remained  in 
almost  complete  darkness. 

It  was  midnight  when  I  weut  to  bed;  and  I  had  slept  I 
suppose,  until  somewhere  between  two  and  three,  when  I 
suddenly  awoke,  and  to  my  surprise,  found  that  my  candle 
was  still  burning.  My  first  idea  was,  that  I  had  forgotten 
to  extinguish  it.  Closing  my  eyes,  while  revolving  this 
question  in  my  mind,  I  opened  them  again  upon  a  room 
darkened  as  before.  Through  the  uncurtained  window  I 
saw  the  dim  top.  of  the  cedars  rising  against  the  misty 


MY   SUPERNATURAL   EXPERIEXCES.  Ul 

November  sky.     At  the  same  instant,  I  detected  a  slight 
noise  at  the  door-as  if  some  one  was  cautiously  trying"to 
enter.     But  as  the  key  Avas  turned,  the  attempt  was  in  vlin ; 
and  I  presently  heard  the  same  noise  at  the  door  of  the 
adjoining    dressing-room.     Listening    intenMy,  I    became 
aware   of  a  slight   creak  at  the  door  of  eommuuicatiou 
between  the  two  rooms.    This  was  followed,  not  by  a  foot- 
step, but  by  the  hushed,  rustling  sound  o^    -.,  long  dress 
trailing  upon  the  floor.     The  sound  marchec      owly  a^.ross 
the  room,  and  approached  the  bedside,  where  it  stopped. 
Then  the  gentlest  touch-as,  indeed,  of  dry  hngers-drew 
the  bed-clothe.-  straight,  and  tucked  the  ends  of  the  cover- 
lids  and  sheets  into  t:ie  spnce  between  the  mattress  and 
bedstead.     Meanwhile,  I  lay  perfectly  still,  in  a  passive 
state  of  surprise  and  wonder. 

When,  however,  the  gentle  ministry  ceased,  and  I  a<.ran 
caught  the  rustle  of  t'le  trailing  dress  on  the  carpet,  I  spr!..  <. 
bolt  upright  in  bed,  and  peered  into  the  gloom,  in  hope  of 
seemg  the  figure.     But  the  room  was  a  gulf  of  darkness 
except  the  bit  of  window  not  covered  by  the  cedars ;  ani 
by  this  time  the  rustle  had  reached  the  dressing-room  door 
In  a  few  seconds  more,  it  had  passed  away  completolv ;  and 
after  exhausting  myself  in  speculations  as  to  the  character 
of  the  visit  -  slept.     On  mentioning  the  incident  at  break- 
last,  I  foun  '  that  none  of  the  guests  had  been  disturbed  • 
nor  could  I  learn  that  anything  of  the  kind  had  previously 
happened  in  the  house,  although  one  gentleman  affirmed 
that   th.   old  mansion,  which  was  pulled  down  by  Lord 
T  before  l,ui!ding  the  present  one,  hud  the  reputo- 

t:on  of  being  huuntcd. 


mm 


152 


AT  BOMK  AND  ABEOAD. 


Two  different  explanations  occurred  to  me.  Either  the 
imaginative  part  of  the  brain  was  dreaming,  while  the 
senses  were  awake— as  in  the  former  cases— or  the  incident 
was  real,  and  the  mysterious  visitor  was  a  somnambulist— 
possibly  a  housekeeper  or  a  chambermaid,  unconsciously 
repeating  her  rounds  to  see  that  everything  was  in  order. 
The  vision  of  the  lighted  candle  must  have  been  an  illusion 
—an  instantaneous  dream— suggested  by  that  electric  spark 
of  light  which  is  sometimes  struck  from  the  eyes  on  open- 
ing them  suddenly. 

In  all  these  experiences,  notwithstanding  the  liveliness 
and  permanence  of  the  impression  produced  on  my  mmd, 
I  am  fully  satisfied  that  there  was  nothing  whatever  of  1 
supernatural  character.  So  long  as  the  visible  world,  and 
the  constitution  of  our  mortcU  nature,  furnishes  us  with  a 
SuScient  explanation  of  such  phenomena,  why  should  w- 
lay  hold  upon  the  invisible  and  the  immortal  ? 


f 


XIV. 

MORE  OF  THE  SUPER?  NATURAL. 


Theee  is  a  class  of  mental  phenomena,  to  which  I  have  not 
yet  alluded,  of  a  character  much  more  nearly  allied  to  the 
supernatural  than  those  described  in  the  last  chapter.     In 
certain  conditions  of  the  body,  the  mmd  seems  to  become 
possessed  of  a  new  and  unsuspected  power,  independent  of 
volition— elusive  and  unmanageable  as  the  plot  of  a  dream 
to  which  we  fain  would  give  an  agreeable  solution,  yet  are 
helplessly  carried  on  through  a  series  of  accumulated  diffi- 
culties.     Perhaps   the   term   "natural   clairvoyance"    wiU 
best  descilue  this  power  ;  since  the  eye  of  the  mind  looks 
straight  through   all  material   hindrances,  and  net   only 
perceives  that  which  is  beyond  the  horizon  of  the  bodily 
eye,  but  foresees  •  nat  has  not  yet  come  to  pass. 

The  credulous  will,  no  doubt,  reject  the  rational  inter- 
pretation 1  have  given  to  the  experiences  already  described ; 
and  the  sceptical,  I  presume,  wiU  be  as  ready  to  deny  the 

7* 


jt:»:5ij^~-:5     ;-  ^";;;^^£,*:^7i=£:--7^.-,:;gw«s5^j 


::i:^^  .if^i^ftt:-. 


^t. 


W' 


;ir. 


154 


AT  HOME  AND   ABROAD. 


existence  of  any  such  faculty  as  I  now  assume.    Yet  this 
faculty  ex.-sts-abnormal,  perhaps,  yet  not  snpernatural-I 
am  fully  coniinced.     Many  persons  live  out  their  allotted 
term  of  years,  without  ever   experiencing  its   operation; 
others  are  so  rarely  and  so  dimly  conscious  of  it,  that  they 
class  it   among  the  ordinary  delusions  produced  by  fear 
anxiety,  or  excitement  of  any  kind ;  whUe  a  few  receive' 
such  distinct  and  palpable  evidences,  that  they  are  forced  to 
admit  the  insufficiency  of  all  other  explanations.     I  see  no 
a,fficulty  m    recognising   this   half-acknowledged  faculty 
^\  lien  we  understand  the  awful  capacity  of  the  mind  to 
receive  impressions-every  word  of  the  thousands  we  hear 
during  the   day,   every  f.-m   of  the  million   object-  we 
behold,  though  forgotten  as  soon  as  heard  and  oeen,  being 
indelibly  stamped  upon  tablets  which  are  stored  aAvay  in 
some  chamber  of  the  brain,  whereto  we  have  no   key- 
when  we  ponder  upon  this  fact,  with  its  infinite  suggestions 
w-e  find  It  easy  to  beli.ve  that  those  operations  of  the  mind 
of  which  we  are  conscious,  are  far  from  being  the  full 
measure  of  its  powers. 

But  an  ounce  of  illustration  is  better  than  a  pound  of 
theory.     Let  me  relate  a  few  instances,  taken  from  my  own 
personal  experience,  and  that  of  some  of  my  friends.    The 
bee-hke   instinct  of  direction,  referred  to  in  the  previous 
chapter,  is  not  unusual  among  men  accustomed  to  the  wild 
life  of  the  woods  and  mountains.     More  than  one  of  my 
Rocky-Mountain  acquaintances  possess  it  in   an   eminent 
degree.     A   noted   explorer,  whose   blanket  I  have  often 
^haied  as  we  slept  under  the  stars,  assured  me  that  frequent 
17,  whUe  threading  the  interlocking  folds  of  a  mountain- 


l^-?F: 


,:^im3-^: 


MORE   OF  THE   SCPERXATCRAL. 

pass,  he  has  had  a  sudden  vision  of  the  landscape  beyond 
even  to  its  minutest  details.  The  same  thing  once  occurred 
to  ,ne  in  Mexico,  bet^.  een  Tepic  and  Guadalajara.  He  has 
also,  after  searching  all  day  for  grass  and  water  for  his 
animals,  m  an  unexplored  wilderness,  been  seized  with  a 
blind  instinct,  which  led  him,  against  all  reason,  to  the  only 
spot  where  they  were  to  be  found. 

During  a  visit  to  Boston,  four  or  five  years  ago,  I  accepted 
an  invitation  to  take  tea  with  a  distinguished  author  A 
gentleman  who  had  often  visited  him,  offered  to  accompany 
me,  as  his  residence  was  in  a  part  of  the  city  with  which  I 
was  then  unacquainted.  We  were  walking  along  the  street 
conversing  very  earnestly  upon  some  subject  of  mutual 
interest,  when  all  at  once  I  was  seized  with  the  idea  that 
we  were  passing  the  author's  house.     "Stop!"  I  said- 

"Mr. lives  here."    My  friend  halted,  surprised,  and 

surveyed  the  house.     «  No,"  said  he,  "  that  is  not  his  resi- 
dence ;  it  is  in  the  next  block.    But  I  thought  you  had 
never  visited  him."     "Nor  have  I,"  I  replied;  "I  never 
was  in  this  street  before,  but  I  am  positive  he  lives  there." 
"And  I  am  positive  he  does  not,"  my  friend  rejoined; 
» there  is  a  large  brass  plate  upon  his  door,  with  the  name' 
upon  it ;  and,  you  see,  here  is  no  name  whatever.     Besides 
it  is  not  in  this  block."     "  I  will  go  further  with  you,"  was 
my  stubborn  answer  ;  "  but  we  shall  have  to  return  again  " 
The  presumption  of  his  certain  knowledge  did  not  Tn  tho 
least  .:  ake  my  confidence.    We  searched  the  next  block, 
but  did  no.  find  the  author's  name  on  any  door.     With 
some  difficulty,  I  persuaded  my  friend  to  return,  and  try 
the  house  I  had  pointed  out :  it  was  the  right  one !    I  can 


■-.-.ji-,— -ji- 


156 


AT   nOlIE   AND   ABEOAD. 


explain  this  curious  incident  in  no  other  way,  than  by  assum- 
in?  the  existence  of  a  natural  clairvoyant  faculty  m  the 
mind. 

Of  course,  such  experiences  are  very  rare ;  and,  as  they 
generally  occur  at  the  most  unexpected  moments,  it  is  next 
to  impossible  to  go  back,  and  ascertain  how  the  impression 
first  makes  itself  felt.     Once,  only,  have  I  been  conscious 
of  the  operation  of  the  faculty.    This  took  place  in  Racine, 
Wisconsin,  on  the  morning  of  the  Ist  of  March,  1855.     My 
bed-room  at  the  hotel  was  an  inner  chamber,  lighted  only 
by  a  door  opening  into  a  private  parlor.     Consequently 
when  I  awoke  in  tlie  morning,  it  was  difficult  to  tell,  from 
the    imperfect    light   received  through  the   outer  room, 
whether  the  hour  was  eariy  or  late.     A  lecturer,  especially 
after  his  hundredth  performance,  is  not  inclined  to  get  up  at 
daylight;  and  yet,  if  you  sleep  too  long,  in  many  of  the 
western  towns,  you  run  the  risk  of  losing  your  breakfast. 
I  was  lying  upon  my  back,  with  closed  eyes,  lazily  trying  to 
solve  the  question,  when,  aU  at  once,  my  vision  seemed  to 
be  reversed— or  rather,  a  clearer  spiritual  vision  awoke, 
independent  of  the  physical  sense.    My  head,  the  pillow  on 
which  it  rested,  and  the  hunting-case  of  my  watch,  became 
transparent  as  air;  and  I  saw,  distinctly,  the  hands  on  the 
dial  pointing  to  eleven  minutes  before  six.     I  can  only  com- 
pare  the  sensation  to  a  flash  of  lightning  on  a  dark  night, 
which,  for  the  thousandth  part  of  a  second,  shows  you  a 
landscape  as  bright  as  day.    I  sprang  up  instantly,  jerked 
forth  my  watch,   opened  it;  and  there  were  the  hands, 
pointing  to  eleven  minutes  he/ore  ^j-o;— lacking  only  the  few 
seconds  which  had  elapsed  between  the  vision  and  its  proof 


MORE   OF  THE  SUPEBNATUHAL.  I57 

Is  this,  after  all,  any  more  singular  than  the  fact  that  a 
man  can  awaken  at  any  hour  that  he  chooses  ?    What  is 
the  spiritual  alarm-clock  which  caUs  us  at  four,  though  wo 
usuady  sleep  until  six  ?    How  is  it  that  the  web  of  dreams 
18  broken,  the  helpless  slumber  of  the  senses  overcome,  at 
the  desired  moment,  by  the  simple  passage  of  a  thought 
through  the  mind  hours  before  ?    I  was  once,  of  necessity, 
obliged  to  cultivate  this  power,  and  brought  it,  finally,  to 
such  perfection,  that  the  profoundest  sleep  ceased  as  sud- 
denly,  at  the  appointed  minute,  as  if  I  had  been  struck  on 
the  head  with  a  mallet.     Let  any  one  tell  me,  clearly  and 
satisfactorily,  how  this  is  done,  before  asking  me  to  account 
for  the  other  marvel. 

But,  in  certain  conditions,  the  mind  also  foresees.    This 
may  either  take  place  in  dreams,  or  in  those  more  vague 
and  uncertain  impressions  which  are  termed  presentiments. 
I  wfU  only  relate  a  single  instance,  since  it  is  useless  to 
adduce  anything  which  is  not  beyond  the  range  of  accident 
or  coincidence.    I  spent  ihe  winter  of  1844-5  at  Frankfort- 
on-the-Main,  living  with  Mr.  Richard  Storrs  Willis,  in  the 
family  of  a  German  merchant  there.    At  that  time  there 
was  only  a  maU  once  a  month  between  Europe  and  Ame- 
rica, and  if  we  failed  to  receive  letters  by  one  steamer,  we 
were  obliged  to  wait  four  weeks  for  the  next  chance.     One 
day  the  letters  came  as  usual  for  Mr.  Willis,  but  none  for 
me.     I  gave  up  all  hope  for  that  month,  and  went  to  bed  in 
a  state  of  great  disappointment  and  dejection ;  but  in  the 
night  I  dreamed  that  it  was  morning,  and  I  was  dressing 
myself,  when  Mr.  Willis  burst  into  the  room  saying:  "  The 
postman  is  below— perhaps  he  has  letters  for  you.    Come 


liSaHL: 


158 


AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 


I         1. 


up  into  the  dining-room,  anu  you  can  see  him  from  the 
window."  We  thereupon  went  up  to  the  dining-room  on 
the  third  story,  looked  down  into  the  street,  and  there 
stood  the  postman— who,  as  soon  as  he  saw  us,  held  up  a 
letter  at  arm's  length,  holding  it  by  the  lower  right-hand 
corner.  Though  he  was  in  the  street,  and  I  in  the  third 
story,  I  read  my  name  upon  it. 

I  arose  in  the  morning  with  my  head  full  of  the  dream. 
When  I  was  about  half  dressed,  Mr.  Willis  came  into  my 
room,  repeating  the  very  words  I  had  heard  in  my  sleep. 
We  went  into  the  dining-room  together,  looked  down,  and 
there  stood  the  postman,  holding  up  a  letter  by  the  lover 
right-hand  corner !     Of  course  I  could  not  read  the  address 
at  that  distance ;  but  my  name   .7as  upon  it.     In  this  case, 
the  circumstances  were  altogether  beyond  my  control ;  and 
the  literal  manner  in  which  the  dream  was  fulfilled,  in  every 
minute  particular,  is  its  most  astonishing  feature.     Nothing 
was  added  or  omitted  :  the  reality  was  a  daguerreotype  of 
the  vision.     Never  before  had  my  friend  entered  my  room 
at  so  early  an  hour— never  before  had  the  postman  held  up 
a  letter  in  that  manner.     If  a  coincidence  only,  the  occur- 
ence is  therefore  all  the  more  marvellous. 

When  I  was  last  in  Florence,  the  sculptor  Powers  related 
to  me  a  still  more  remarkable  story,  which  had  come  to 
pass  only  a  few  days  before  my  arrival.  A  young  English 
lady  of  his  acquaintance,  who  was  living  with  her  brother 
in  the  city,  was  on  terms  of  great  intinracy  and  affection 
with  a  lady  of  her  own  age,  who  was  spending  the  summer 
with  her  father  in  a  villa  among  the  Apennines,  near  Pistoja. 
This  fiiend  had  invited  her  to  visit  her  during  the  summer: 


MORE   OP  THE   SUPERXATUKAL. 


159 


she  had  accepted  the  invitation ;  and  the  middle  of  August 
was  fixed  upon  as  the  time.    Three  weeks  before,  however, 
the  young  lady  had  a  remarkable  dream.     It  seemed  to  her 
that  the  day  of  her  departure  for  the  villa  near  Pistoja  had 
arrived.     Her  trunk  was  packed  ;  and  early  in  the  morning, 
a  very  curious  old  carriage  drove  to  the  door  to  receive 
her.    The  vetturino  slung  her  trunk  to  the  axletree  with 
ropes— a   disposition   of  baggage   Avhich   she   had   never 
before  seen.     She  took  her  seat,  and  for  several  hours  jour- 
neyed  down  the  vale  of  the  Arno,  noticing  the  scenery, 
which  was  entirely  new  to  her.     Several  trifling  incidents 
occurred  on  the  way,  and  there  was  a  delay  occasioned  by 
the  giving  way  of  the  harness ;  but  towards  evening  she 
reached  the  Apennine  villa. 

As  the  carriage  approached  the  building,  she  perceived 
the  father  of  her  friend  standing  in  the  door,  with  a  very 
troubled  countenance.     He  came  forward,  as  she  was  pre- 
paring to  alight,  laid  his  hand  on  the  carriage  door,  and 
said:  "My  daughter  is  very  ill,  and  no  one  is  allowed  to 
see  her.      To-night  is  the  crisis  of  her  fever,  which  will 
decide  whether  she  will  recover.     I  have  made  arrange- 
ments for  you  to  spend  the  night  in  the  villa  of  Mr.  Smith 
yonder;  and  pray  heaven  that  my  daughter's  condition  will 
permit  you  to  return  to  us  to-morrow!"    Thereupon  he 
gave  directions  to  the  vetturino,  who  drove  to  Mr.  Smith's 
villa.    The  host  received  her  kindly,  ushered  her  into  a 
broad  entrance-hall,  and  said:  "I  will  endeavor  to  make 
you  comfoi  table  for  the  night.     That  will  be  your  room," 
pointing  to  a  glass  door,  with  gieen  curtains,  at  the  end  of 
the  hall.    Here  her  dream  suddenly  stopped. 


100 


AT  IIOMK   AM>   Anno  AD. 


* 
i 

I 


The  next  morning  she  rolHiod  tl.o  w.'iolc  story  to  her  hro. 
thor.     For  u  Anv  .lays  aftcrwar.ls,  thv.v  ..«,  nsionally  rc-f.-rrnl 
toil;  Imt  a«  8ho  roooivoa  infov,....f..H,  ,1.,,^  ,,,.,  j..;^,,,,  ^^..^^ 
<M  oxccllont  hoalth.  nho  RraJrally  l,anisl.o<I  from  her  .ni.ul 
tI.o  anxu.ty  it  had  cauHcl  her.    Tho  day  fixed  u,.<,n  for  her 
journoy  at  length  arrived.     What  w.u,  her  astonisl.nent 
« lu'u  the  idoMtieal  queer  oM  earriage  of  her  drea.n  drove 
"P  to  the  door,  and  her  trunk  was  nhuig  by  .opoH  t.>  the 
axlotreel    This  was  the  conunen. en.ent ;  and  during  ,he 
M  hole  day  everything  occurred  precisely  as  she  had  already 
«een  ,t.      Towards  evening,  she  arrive.l  at  tho  villa  ne^r 
Pistqja;  and  the  father  of  her  friend  stood  in  tho  door,  with 
a  troubled  countenance.     He  ea.ne  forward,  repeating  tho 
intelligence  of  his  daughter's  illness  in  tho  same  words,  and 
ordered  tho  vettu.ino  to  drive  to  tho  villa  of  Afr.  Smith 
The  excitement  and  alarm  of  tho  young  lady  had  been 
oontmually   on   the   increase;    so    that,    when   she   finally 
reached  the   broad   entrance-hall,   and    Mr.    Smith    said 
"  I  will  endeavor  to  make  you  comfortable  for  the  night' 
That  will  be  your  room "   (pointing  to  tho  glass  door 
with  green  curtains),  her  nerves,  strung  to  their  utmost 
tension,  gave  way,  and  she  fell  upon  the  floor  in  a  swoon 
Fortunately,  there  was  no  ground  for  superstitious  fore- 
bodings.    The  crisis  passed  over  happily,  and  the  very 
next  day  she  was  permitted  to  nurse  her  convalescent 
Iriend. 

Here  the  dre.am,  in  all  its  details,  was  narrated  three 
weeks  before  its  verification-thus  setting  aside  any  ques- 
tion  ot  the  im.agination  having  .assisted  in  the  latter.  It  is 
one  of  the  most  srai.factory  examples  of  second-sight  I  have 


MOttK  OJT  TUK  BUPKBNATURAL.  101 

over  hoard  ot;  an.l  this  must  bo  my  justification  for  giving 
it  to  the  world. 

I  cannot  close  this  chaj.ter,  without  giving  one  more 
aulh.ntic  ghoHt  Htory-to  which,  in  my  opinion,  the  samo 
cxi»lHnati.,n  will  apj.Iy  as  to  those  I  have  rchitod  in  the  p.c- 
coding  article.     A  gentleman  (permit  me  to  withhold  his 
name,  station,  and  the  date  of  the  occurrence)  was  onco 
travelling  in  the  u.tcrior  of  Sweden.     On  a  raw  evening,  in 
October,  ho  arrived  at  a  large  country-town,  where  a  fair 
was  being  held.     All  the  inns  were  full,  and  he  found  it  no 
easy  matter  to  obtain  lodgings  for  the  night.      He  was 
weary,  from  a  long  day's  journey,  and  after  applying  at  the 
third   or  fourth   inn   without  success,  announced  to  the 
landlord  his  determination  to  remain  there,  with  or  without 
a  bed.     He  procured  some  supper,  smoked  his  pipe  in  the 
guests'  room,  and  finally,  feeling  inclined  to  sleep,  demanded 
to  bo  shown  some  place  where  he  could  lie  down.     «  Have 
you  no  sofa,  or  bench,  or  bundle  of  hay  vacant?"  he  -sked 
the  landlord.      "No,"  said  the  latter-" not  one;  \     ,_'» 
here  he  hesitated-*'  the-o  is  a  room  with  a  bed  in  it,  in  a 
small  house  at  the  back  of  the  court,  only  "-dropping  his 
voice  to  a  whisper-" the  place  is  haunted;   and  nobody 
dares  to  spend  the  night  there."     "Oh!   if  that  is  all" 
laughed  the  traveller,  " give  me  the  room  at  once.    I  don't 
believe  in  ghost  or  demon;  and,  besides,  I'm  far  too  tired 
to  be  troubled  with  anything  of  the  sort." 

The  landlord  still  hesitated,  as  if  doubtful  whether  ho 
should  expose  his  stubborn  guest  to  such  dangers;  but, 
finally,  gave  orders  to  h.^ve  a  fir.  made  in  the  ill-omened 
room,  and  fresh  sheets  put  upon  the  unused  bed.    Taking  his 


! 


I 


r 


162 


AT   HOME   AD   ABROAD. 


eaadlcbags  o„  I,«  arm,  and  l,i»  ,„„rd  i„  hi,  hand,  .l,e  tra- 
vellvr    followed  the  servant   acroW  the   co„,t-jard,   and 
......ed  the  building.    The  roo™  ,va,  ,„.  and  bar!,  th! 

.vrndo,,^  closed  by  slmtter,,  „-h,«e  rusty  bolts  shoH-ed  that 
■t  was  long  since  thoy  had  been   opened.    A  rnddy  fire 
of  ,,me  wood  was  blazing  on  the  raised  hearth,  in  one  cor- 
"or,  but  there  was  no  furniture,  except  a  narrow  bed  and  two 
ctan-s.     Ihe  «,rva„t,  having  |,la,-ed  the  cnndle  on  one  of  the 
cl.a<rs,  made  haste  to  le,.ve;  but  the  traveller  detained  him 
a  n,o,neut,  s.,ying ,  "  Y„„  ,ee  :ny  ,„.ord-a„d  here  are  two 
p;s toK  loaded  and  capped.     1  f  anything  disturbs  me  in  the 
u.ght  man  or  ghost,  I  shall  innnediately  tire  n|,on  it.     Unless 
you  hear  a  shot,  leave  me  alone."    He  did  this,  from  a  sus- 
p.c.o„  that  the  ghost  n>ight  b,-  some  pe,-son  connected  with 
the  ,„n,  who,  for  purposes  of  his  own,  was  concerned  in 
bamshmg  all  nightly  visitors  from  the  house 

After  the  servant  left,  the  traveller  heaped  more  wood 
on  the  fire,  carefully  examined  the  windows  and  door,  and 
after  locktng  the  latter,  susp.-nded  the  heavy  key  upon  the 
latch,  n,  snch  a  manner  that  the  least  movement  would 
cause  tt  to  fall.     He  Chen  undressed,  with  the  exception  of 
h,strow»ers,  placed  the  chan- with  the  candle  at  the  head 
of  the  bed  the  ,,is,ols  under  ,l,e  pillow,  and  Lay  down,  with 
h.s  swo,^  bes,de  him  on  the  bed-clothes,  within  reach  of  his 
hand.     He  then  blew  out  the  candle,  and  composed  himself 
to  rest.    As  he  did  not  .eel  the  slightest  fear  or  trepidation, 
he  soon  fell  into  a  sonnd  sleej^. 

About  midnight,  he  was  s.uldenly  avakened  bv  a  feelin^ 
l.ke  that  of  a  rush  of  cold  wind  over  his  face.  Openin.  hi! 
eyes,  he  found  the  room  quiet  as  before;  but  the  candle  by 


^  ,•-*--' 


MORE   OF  TUB   SUPEENATCBAL.  133 

his  bedside  was  burning.     He  distin.1  'y  r.«.lected  havine 
extu,gui.hed  it,  but  nevertheless  p...uad.  1  lnn,,elt'  that  he 
mu.t  have  been  mi.taken_;..t  up,  t..o^     ove  wood  on  the 
fire,  examined  the  doors  and  wi„dow.s.  ^.d,  after  havinc. 
returned  to  bed,  snufted  the  candle  ..<..  c,  t.hat  there  nught 
be  no  mistake  this  time.    Half  an  hour  afterwards  he  was 
again  awakened  by  the  same  rush  of  cold  wind.     The  candle 
was  burning  once  more!     This  inexplicai,le  circumstance 
made  lam  feel  excited  and  uneasy.    He  extinguished  the 
candle,  and  resolved  to  lie  awake,  and  see  whether  it  would 
be  1)  ;hted  a  third  time. 

Another  half  hour  had  elapsed,  and  his  heavy  eyelids  had 
c  o.ed,  in  spite  of  all  his  struggles  to  keep  them  open,  when 
the  rush  of  wind  returned,  more  violent  than  before.    The 
can-le  M-as  not  only  relighted,  but  a  tall  figure,  clothed  in 
a  long,  heavy  gown,  with  a  hood  failing  forward  so  as  to 
conceal  the  face,  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room.     An  icy 
dull  ran  through  the  traveller's  frame.     He  attempted  to 
seize  his  sword  and  pistols,  but  his  frame  seemed  paralysed 
and  his  arm   refused  to  obey  the  direction  of  his  will.     Step 
by  step  the  figure  advanced  towards  the  bed.     It  reached 
the  bedside ;  it  sMwly  lifted  its  arms,  enveloped  in  the  wide 
sleeves  of  the  gown-and,  with  an  awful  deliberateness 
bent  down  towards  the  traveller's  bod^ .    In  the  frenzy  of 
terror,  he  i.ursi  the  s,.  II  which  seemed  to  confine  his  limbs 
seized  the  snuffers  which  lay  nearest  his  right  hand,  and 
stabbed,  again  and  again,  at  the  breast  of  the  figure.    This 
was  the  last  thing  he  remembered. 

He  was  recalled  to  consciousness  by  a  loud  knocking  at 
the  door,  followed  by  the  fall  of  the  key  from  the  latch,  and 


I 


^Jityi-'" 


'A 


■^# 


164 


AT  HOMa  AND   ABROAD. 


heard  the  servant's  voice  calling:  "Open  the  door,  if  you 
please,  sir ;  I  have  come  to  make  the  fire."    H'>  was  lying-, 
not  In  bed,  bu'.  upon  the  floor,  in  the  middle  of  the  room' 
The  snufiers  were  still  in  his  hand ;  but  the  long  steel  points 
were  bent  double.   The  morning  light  already  shone  through 
the  crack  of  the  door.    By  the  time  ke  ^as  fuUy  arouse'd 
he  had  recovered  his  self-possession,  and  at  once  admitted 
the  servant.      "Holy  cross!"  exclaimed  the  man-" how 
pale  you  are!    What  has  happened?"     "Nothing  what- 
ever," answered  the  traveller,  "except  that  the  fire  has 
gone  out,  and  I  am  almost  dead  of  cold."    He  protested 
to  the  landlord  that  he  passed  a  very  pleasant  night,  and 
ridiculed  the  notion  of  the  house  being  haunted;  but  >ook 
good  care,  nevertheless,  to  leave  the  town  in  the  course  of 
the  d."y. 

readers  can  themselves  apply  to  this  story  the  explr- 
naiion  I  have  suggested.  And  so,  let  us  now  bid  fareweU 
to  the  bo.der-land  of  dreams! 


XV. 


A  NOVEMBER  TRIP  NORTHWARDS. 


[18  6  4.] 


rt 


If  there  is  any  form  of  dissipation  which  I  detest  and 
abjure,  it  is,  getting  up  at  half-past  four  in  the  morning 
The  unfortunates  who  indulge  in  this  vicious  habit  show 
the  same  infatuation,  in  other  forms,  as  the  devotees  of 
opium  or  alcohol.     They  foresee  the  misery  which   the 
mdulgence   will   occasion   them,   but   no   persuasion   can 
induce  them  to  abstain  from  it.    The  man   who  gets  up 
at  half-paet  four,  in  order  to  leave  by  the  early  train,  is 
always  tormented  by  a  horrible  fear  that  he  will  not  be 
called  in  time.    It  nee.ls  the  solemn  assurances  of  the  hotel- 
clerk,  and  of  each  of  the  attending  servants,  to  give  him  a 
little  composure;  but  his  trepidation  is  still  so  great,  that, 
after  he  is  snugly  stowed  away  in  bed,  and  has  fallen  into 
an  unquiet  doze,  he  starts  up,  half  a  dozen  times,  thinking 


■'^■W-^0S»:" 


m\ 


"  11 '  ■SiliiiiiiBiigiiiiili 


3^-.:rr7'--_j;i': 


--^1 


4J- 


166 


AT  HOME  AND   ABROAD. 


.A 


r 


that  the  fateful  hour  is  at  hand.     By-and-bye  he  drops  off 
into  a  deep  sleep,  from  which  he  awakens  with  a  sudden 
shock,  after  havir.g  slept,  as  he  supposes,  for  the  space 
of  twenty-four  hours.     He  gropes  for  his  watch  with  a 
trembling  hand,  and  looks  at  the  dial.     There  is  just  li<.ht 
enough  to  bewilder  his  vision,  but  he  dimly  sees  a  ha^nd 
pointing  to  VI !    A  cold  sweat  breaks  out  over  him,  but  he 
hnally  secures  a  match,  ignites  it,  and  finds  the  hour  to  be 
haljipast  twelve.     Again  he  falls  asleep  ;  but  this  time  he  is 
aroused  by  a  sound  like  the  storming  of  the  Malakoff-it 
-  the  waiter  knocking  at  his  door.     He  gets  up,  dresses 
with  a  haste  which  does  not  allow  him  to  wash  the  gossa- 
mers of  sleep  fairly  out  of  his   eyes,  and  then  wanders 
down  endless  stairs  and  passages  of  the  dark,  unfriendly 
edifice,  with  a  vague  doubt  in  his  mind,  as  to  whether  it  is 
yesterday  or  to-morrow.     Breakfast  is  not  ready  until  the 
last  moment,  and  nothing  but  the  knowledge  that  he  shall 
get  nothing  else  untU  5  v.^.  induces  him  to  swallow  the 
leathery  beefsteak,  and  the  brown,  earthy  beverage,  sup- 
posed to  be  coffee.     Mastication  is  impossible,  and  as  for 
digestion,  it  must   take  care   of  itself     Then  the  porter 
seizes  him,  and,  after  many  worries,  he  finallv  steps  aboard 
the  cars,  just  as  the  conductor  cries  "Go  ahead",  and 
secures  the  half  of  a  small  se.-it  behind  the  door 

Such  was  your  correspondent's  experience  on  the  morning 
o.  Oct.  31,  1854;  and  his  pleasure  was  further  enhanced 
by  the  raM-,  thick  fog,  through  which  the  gas-lamps  of 
Chambers  Street  glimmered  with  a  weak  yellow  glare  For 
an  hour  and  a  half  we  ran  through  the  same  know-nothing 
atmosphere,  until  the  peaks  of  the  Highlands  tore  and 


A   NOVEMBER   TRIP   NOKTH WARDS.  IQ-J 

scattered  the  vapors,  battling  against  their  onsets     Cro'- 
nest  a,.d  Butter  Ilill  «tood  out  clear  and  unconquered,  and 
M'hen  we  passed  the  jnnes  of  Idlewild,  on  the  breezy  ter- 
race across  the  river,  there  was  an  opening  of  blue  sky 
beyond  Snake  Hill.     I  never  saw  more  gorgeous  autumnal 
tmts  than  those  of  the  sumacs,  sassafras,  and  beech  alon.. 
the  banks  of  the  Hudson.      But   as  we  whirled   north! 
wards,  the  day  became  raw  and  gloomy,  and  the   colors 
of  the  forests  more  dull  and  monotonous.     In  Vermont 
the  trees   were   robed  in   dull  brown,  and  as  we   drew 
near  Lake  Champlain,  even   this  last  sad   garment  was 
Btnpped  off,  and  the  landscapes  were  naked  and  bleak  as 
winter. 

Beyond  Rutland  .:>e  road  was  new  to  me,  and  my  ima- 
gination, clothing  the  country  with  summer,  restored  its 
lost  beauty.    The  view  of  Champlain,  at  Vergennes,  with 
the   m:sty  Hnes   of  the  Adirondae   in    the    background 
remmded  me  of  Lake  Thra.ymene,  which  I  saw  on  just 
such  an  afternoon  of  an  Italian  December.     At  Burlington 
we  were   obliged  to   wait  two   or  three  hours   for  the 
l^hItehall    boat.      It   rained   dismally,   and   we  northern 
travellers  were  huddled  together  on  the  cold,  windy  pier 
comforted  by  the  assurance  that  the  train  would  not  leave 
House's  Point  until  we  arrived.     When  we  finally  reached 
the  latter  place,  about  half-past  nm, ,  we  were  coolly  in- 
formed that  the  train  never  rcaited  for  the  evening  boat 
and  had  left  nearly  two  ho     ^  before.     There  is  a  bote,  in 
the  station-house   (or  a  stauon-house  in  the  hotel,  for  I 
l.a.-dly  know  which  predominates),  and  I  secu-ed  a  long 
cell,  with  a  window  higher  than  my  head.     By  getting  on 


t*.— ti  g—wr^wy- 


168 


AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 


I 


a  chair  I  saw  a  bridge  in  the  moonlight,  which  I  took  to  be 
the  famous  bridge  of  Rouse's  Point. 

The  next  morning,  while  waiting  for  the  cars,  I  was 
familiarly  addressed  by  a  gentleman,    as    "Mr.  Joseph 
T\^hipples."     Until  I  meet  the  real  Whipples,  I  cannot 
tell  which  of  us  is  complimented  by  the  resemblance.    There 
was  a  polite  Canadian  Custom-er  in  attendance,  who  took 
my  simple  word  as  evidence  that  I  was  no  smuggler,  and 
marked  a  double  cross  on  all  my  baggage,  which  admitted 
It  unopened  into  Canada.    The  words  «  Traverse  de  chemin 
defer'^  (Look  out  for  the  locomotive  when  the  bell  rings!), 
at  the  crossings,  first  told  me  that  I  had  crossed  the  frontier! 
The  country  Mas  flat  as  a  pancake,  wet  and  dreary;  log  huts, 
painted  red,  stood  here  and  there,  alternating  with  stunted 
woods  and   fields  full  of  charred  pine-stumps.     At  the 
stopping-places,  I  saw  men  with  round  fur  caps,  and  broad, 
hardy  faces,  who  spoke  French  with  a  savage  accent,  which 
made  it  sound  like  another  language.     In  some  places  they 
were  ploughing  in  the  fields  with  real  Canadian  ponies.    We 
followed  the  course  of  the  St.  Johns  River,  which  gleamed 
brightly  on  our  right,  and  in  something  over  an  hour  came 
to  the  flourishing  town  of  St.  Johns,  near  which  there  is  a 
very  picturesque,  isolated  hill.     Here  the  road  swerved  to 
the  north-west,  and  made  direct  for  St.  Lambert,  opposite 
Montreal. 

When  we  got  out  of  the  cars,  on  the  long  pier,  and  saw 
the  stately  city  rising  behind  its  massive  quays,  I  could 
have  believed  myself-but  for  the  breadth  and  swiftness  of 
the  St.  Lawrence— on  the  banks  of  the  Seine.  The  sun 
suddenly  shone  out,  gilding  the  lofty  towers  of  the  ca      dral, 


''?°TWff-i  lifci 


A   NOV£iIBEE  TEIP  N0KTHWAKD8. 

the  tall  spires  of  churches,  the  domes  and  tinned  roofs 

that  stretched  along  the  river  for  more  than  a  mile  and  a 

half,  to  which  the  bold,  wooded  mountain  in  the  rear 

formed  a  majestic  background.     I  was  at  once  reminded 

of  Auxerre,  Montreuil,  and  other  old  provincial  .'^les  of 

France.    A  mile  of  the  clear,  cold,  ^^reen  St.  Lawrence, 

runnmg  at  the  rate  of  eight  or  ten  mUes  an  hour,  lay 

between  me  and  the  city-a  type  of  the  vigor  and  impe. 

tuosity  of  the  New  World,  encircling  the  repose  and  solidity' 

of  a  scene  which  seemed  to  have  been  borrowed  from  the 

Old. 

In  spite  of  its  massive  and  soUd  aspect,  few  towns  have 
suffered  more  from  fires  than  Montreal.    The  northern  and 
eastern  portions  still  al  onnd  with  the  melancholy  ruins  lea 
by  recent  conflagrations.     In  spite  of  this,  however,  and  in 
spite   >f  narrow  and  dirty  streets,  the  city  has  ^finished 
an,  .  tiich  distinguishes  it  from  aU  towns  of  equal  size  in 
the  States.    The  principal  material  used  in  building  is  a 
dark-gray  limestone,  which  is  very  easily  worked  in  the 
quarry,  but  becomes  quite  hard  by  exposure  to  the  air 
The  water  of  Montreal  has  a  flavor  of  tliis  stone,  which  is 
by  no  means  agreeable,  nor  always  wholesome  to  strangers 
The  principal  street,  the  Grande  Rue  St.  Jacques,  is  a 
bright,   cheerful    thoroughfare,   but    more    English    than 
French  in  its  character.    I  was  more  interested  in  the 
old  streets  nearer  the  river,  which  still  have  a  certain  Gallic 
quamtness  about  them. 

The  weather,  after  my  arrival,  was  delicious.  The  next 
mornmg  dawned  without  a  cloud,  and  with  a  pure,  sweet, 
bracing  air,  such  as  I  have  rarely  breathed  on  the  Atlantic 


tM 


170 


AT   HOME   AXD   ABKOAP. 


hS. 


t     f 


■f   f; 


side  of  our  Continent.     Its  inhalation  was  a  violation  of 
the  Maine  Law,  which  prohibits  the  use  of  aU  intoxicatin.. 
beverages.    It  contained  a  stimulus  as  keen  and  active  if 
not  so  poisonous,  as  aloohol.     I  went  out  after  breakfilst, 
and  became  so  inebriated  that  I  found  it  difficult  to  roturn 
to  my  hotel.    I  got  quite  high-in  fact,  I  did  not  stop  until 
I  had  reached  the  summit  of  the  mountain  behind  the  city 
.  On  the  way,  I  passed  a  large  reservoir  of  masonry,  which 
the  city  authorities  are  building  on  the  slope  at  the  foot  of 
the  mountain.     The  water  will  be  forced  up  by  a  wheel" at 
Lachine,  above  the  rapids,  and  will  furnish  a  supply,  which 
It  IS  hoped,  will  prevent  Montreal  from  being  again  laid 
waste  by  fires.     The  thought  of  so  much  water,  all  with 
the  same  limestone  flavor,  and  the  same  horrid  intestinal 
qualities,  tilled  me  with  repugnance.     Give  me  the  iced 
champagne  of  this  glorious  air  in  my  lungs,  and  let  those 
drink  wate"  who  will ! 

Montreal  has  shown  great  taste  and  good  sense  in  pre- 
serving the  mountain,  with  its  clothing  of  ju-imitive  forest 
withm   fifteen  mimite.s'   reach  of  her   70,000  inhabitants! 
Behind  the  reservoir,  we  jumped  over  a  stone  wall,  and 
were  in  the  wild  woods.     There  was  a  rugged,  zi..za.. 
path  up  the  steep  slant  of  the  hill,  but  it  was  almost  hidden 
under  the  fallen   leaves.     Although  a  good  climber,  my 
knees  became  weak  and  my  breath  short,  before  reachin<. 
the  cre^t.     The  groves  of  pine  and  silver  birch  obstructed 
the  view,  except  at  one  point,  where  we  found   an  Irish 
boy,  lying  in  the  sun,  pointing  out  "Mr.  Smith's  house"  to 
another  Irish  boy.     Here  I  was  greeted  with  the  sight,  not 
only  of  Mr.  Smith's  house,  but  of  all  Montreal,  of  many 


A   NOVEMBER   TRIP   NORTHWARDS.  17x 

leagues  Of  the  St.  Lawrence,  flashing  splendidly  in  the  sun, 
of  the  broad  plains  beyond,  sprinkled  with  the  white  cot! 
tages  of  the  Aabitans,  and  far  in  the  dim  south,  the  outfly- 
^ng  spurs  of  the  Vermont  and  Adirondae  Mountains.  It 
was  a  grand  and  inspiring  panorama,  embraced  by  the 
cold,  bright  blue  of  the  Canadian  sky.  Well  did  the  fol- 
lowers  of  Jacques  Cartier  call  this  the  Royal  Mountain. 

We  found  another  faint  trail  leading  northwards  through 
he  pmes  and  birch,  and  having  fallowed  it  up  for  a  shon 
distance,  reached  the  opposite  brink  of  the  mountain, 
whence  we  looked  away  beyond  the  Island  of  Jesus,  gir- 
dh.d  by  the  blue  arms  of  the  Ottawa,  to  a  distant  horiL 
of  low  lulls  and  forests.  In  the  keen  northern  air,  which 
came  to  us  over  the  rim  of  that  horizon,  there  was  a  whis- 

Great  F.h  Rxver  where  lie  the  corpses  of  the  Arctic  ex- 
plorers     It  requires  but  a  slight  elevation  to  make  the 
ends  of  the  earth  seem  near  to  us.     Along  the  Ottawa 
River  there  are  settlements  for  two  hundred  miles,  and 
many  hundred  leagues  further  to  the  North-West  Passac^e 
yet  to  my  fancy  the  site  of  that  useless  problem  was  iust 
beyond  the  range  of  vision.     There  are  bears  and  deer  in 
some  of  the  forests  I  saw,  and  the  "  ravages  "  of  the  moose 
may  be  reached  in  a  fow  days'  journey. 

In  the  afternoon  I  had  the  pleasure  of  inspecting  the 
works  of  the  Victoria  Bridge,  which  is  to  span  the  St 
Lawrence  at  this  place.  I  was  indebted  to  the  courtesy  of 
Mr.  Holmes  and  Mr.  Grant,  of  the  Grand  Trunk  Railroad 
Company,  for  the  opportunity  of  seeing  in  detail  the  be<.in- 
mngs  of  this  colossal  undertaking.     The  bridge,  which  h  to 


II    f 


iWii 


112 


AT  HOME   AND  ABROAD. 


Ill: 


1)6  of  iron,  and  tubular,  like  that  over  the  Menai  Strait,  will 
be  two  miles  in  length,  and  its  central  arch  will  have  a  span 
of  333  feet.  The  material  used  is  black  limestone,  and  the 
Titanic  piers,  which  compete  with  the  grand  masonry  of 
^^gypt»  ^re  based  upon  the  solid  natural  rock  which  here 
forms  the  bed  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  Immense  strength  is 
required  in  the  piers,  in  order  to  resist  the  pressure  of  the 
ice.  The  huge  blocks  of  stone  are  laid  in  hydraulic  cement 
of  the  firmest  character,  and  melted  lead,  and  strongly 
clamped  together  with  iron.  In  the  middle  of  the  river 
the  current  runs  at  the  rate  of  nine  or  ten  miles  an  hour, 
and  the  force  of  the  immense  masses  of  ice,  carried  down 
at  the  breaking  up  of  winter,  is  so  great  that  the  old  resi- 
dents of  Montreal  shake  their  heads  and  predict  that  the 
bridge  will  be  a  failure.  But  I  cannot  conceive  how  these 
piers  can  be  shaken  any  more  than  so  many  masses  of 
natural  rook.  Certainly,  human  genius  never  better  coun- 
terfeited the  strength  of  nature.  It  is  refreshing  to  see  on 
this  continent,  where  the  most  that  is  done  is  temporary 
and  transitory,  a  work  which  rivals  the  Pyramids.  The 
cost  of  the  bridge,  when  completed,  is  estimated  at 
£1,500,000,  but  will  probably  be  nearer    '2,000,000. 

On  leaving  Montreal,  your  correspondent  was  guilty  of 
the  same  dissipation  as  on  leaving  New  York :  he  got  up  at 
half-past  four.  There  is  some  difference,  however,  between 
a  Montreal  hotel  and  a  New  York  hotel  before  dayliglit. 
We  had  been  promised  our  breakfasts,  but  on  descending 
to  the  office  at  a  quarter  past  five,  found  only  two  Irish 
girls  washing  the  floor.  They  were  "  know-nothings "  in 
the  fullest  sense,  and  snubbed  all  my  endeavors  to  obtain 


■^ii. 


■^-.^fe^' 

:    ,      -r         r  .^;o  .  i'^:"  '' ^fe^^^vi :;  Jfet?fe?:>^ 

-.s^'rii--:,-- .;-:--_.   ,-. -:v^.-.;    ;    -=:j;   -Ai?%aC  ■      ^^1-^"     vl'*!, 

A   NOVKMBEH   TRIP   NOBTIIWARDS. 


173 


information.  Finally,  "  the  Superintendent,"  as  he  styled 
himself — a  dark  gentleman  who  had  probably  once  been 
white  property,  and  now  retaliated  by  looking  upon  all 
whites  as  his  property — made  his  appearance.  His  assump- 
tion of  superiority  was  so  sublime  that  I  was  amused  rather 
than  annoyed  by  it.  He  majestically  disdained  all  expla- 
nations, declining  all  conversation  by  a  wave  of  his  hand, 
and  the  oracular  remark  that  "  everything  was  right."  It 
happened,  in  the  end,  that  we  reached  the  ferry-boat  before 
she  pushed  off,  but  the  rapidity  with  which  we  underwent 
breakfast  would  have  astonished  a  weaker  stomach  than 
your  correspondent's.  On  landing  from  the  omnibus  on 
the  quay,  we  found  the  ticket-master  in  waiting,  with  a 
lantern  and  a  pocketful  of  tickets.  I  held  the  lantern  for 
him,  while  he  counted  out  my  change.  Of  course  there  could 
be  no  crowding  at  the  Avindow  with  such  an  arrangement. 

The  sky  was  a  dull  gray  blanket,  with  a  strip  of  fiery 
red  binding,  in  the  north-east,  over  St.  Helen's  Island.  As 
the  wind  blew  it  threw  upwards  a  hidden  fringe  of  the 
same  crimson  hue,  and  the  dark,  cheerless  landscape  faded 
into  the  colors  of  dawn.  Before  we  were  half-way  across 
the  St.  Lawrence,  a  snow-squall  came  down  upon  the  river, 
almost  hiding  from  view  the  stately  city  we  were  leaving. 
The  air  was  searchingly  raw  and  cold,  and  I  took  but  a 
hasty  farewell  glance,  with  the  wish  that  I  may  one  day 
see  the  same  shores  in  the  glory  of  summer.  As  we  sped 
over  the  wet  plains,  on  our  way  to  Rouse's  Point,  the  snow 
continued,  and  the  country  was  soon  whitened,  far  and 
near.  The  atmosphere  had  lost  all  its  purity  and  elasticity, 
and  I  felt  glad  that  my  course  was  southwards. 


11813 


_^,-;^"'^=f*rrf?-' 


:«5fc-:. 


174 


AT    IIOMK   AND    AHROAD. 


i|> 


At  Rouse's  l».»int,  wo  fou.ui  the  train  lor  Otrdomhrnfr  in 
wailing..     The  C'u.m.liaii  plains  appear  to  coaHc  at  tlio  fron- 
t.i'.-,  for  tl.o  country  throujrl,  wl.i.h  we  passe.!  was  mode 
'•ately  unuulalinjr,  with  occasional  lulls  in  the  ,listancc.     It 
W.UH  a  dreary  alternation  of  pino  woo.ls,  Htun,,.y  clearing., 
barren-looking.  Hel.ls,  au.l  n.eajrre  villages.     The  raw,  gusty 
«ltty,  with  frequeut  Hurries  of  snow,  .uuloubte.Uy  added  to 
•ts  Meak  and  forbi.hling  aspect,  but  I  do  not  believe  that 
eveu  June  could  n.ake  it  inviting.     The  road  passes  through 
the  nortl»,.rn  edge  of  Clinton,  Franklin,  and  St.  Lawrence 
counties,  crossing  n.any  of  the  tributaries  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence, a.nong  which  I  noted  the  Chateauguay,  Sahnon,  St. 
«i«g.s,  Hatchet,  .and  (Jrass  Rivers.     The  country  is  all  well 
watered  an,l  tin.bercd.     The  only  town  which  nuade  :.ny 
8how  froui  the  railroad  was  Malono,  which  had  a  flourish- 
ing air.     At  one  of  the  stations,  where  I  got  out  to  warm 
myself  with  a  cup  of  cotfee,  I  was  much  interested  in  the 
aspect  of  a  female  waiter.     She  stood  with  folde.l  arn,s, 
g:iziug  into  vacancy,  ami  when  recpiested  to  furnish  the  coffee 
obeyed  with  the  le:vst  possible  expenditure  of  movement 
removed  the  cup  and  took  the  money  in  the  same  way,' 
without  honoring  me  with  :,  single  glance,  and  then  folded 
hor  arn.s  again.     The  free/.ing  dignity  of  her  countenance 
repellod  all  idea  of  conversation.      AVero  I  a  sculptor,  I 
should  bo  delighted  to  find  such  an  oxcellont  model  for  a 
statue  of  Luliflerence. 

The  country  improved  after  passing  Potsdam,  and  the 
road  descended  to  the  St.  Lawrence.  The  sun,  breakin.. 
through  the  clouds,  shone  with  a  coKI  brilliance  on  the 
larms  and  farnx-houses  of  the  Canada  shore,  as  we  reached 


li 


A    NOVKMUEIl    rniP   NOinilWABUS. 


Itf 


()j,'«li'n8burg,  the  cn.l  of  tho  (Liy's  journey.  I  found  com- 
Ibrtiiblo  <niaitor.s  ut  tho  St.  Lawrenro  Hotel,  and  they  were 
truly  welcome,  f(,r  as  the  sky  cleared,  the  air  became  in- 
tensely  cold.  The  whidowa  of  my  room  were  covered 
with  a  thick  crust  of  ice  tho  next  morning,  and  the  tern- 
perature  could  not  have  been  higher  ihan  15°. 

Under  tho  guidance  of  Judge  James,  I  saw  as  niucli  of 
Ogdeiisburg  as  tho  cold  i)ermitted.  The  Judge  is  well 
versed  in  the  early  history  of  this  region,  which  he  repeated 
to  mo  while  we  were  seeking  a  distant  view  of  Chimney 
Island— so  called  fiom  the  ruins  of  the  old  French  fort, 
destroyed  by  Lord  Amherst.  Tho  situation  of  the  town  is 
line,  with  tho  exci^ption  Ihut  it  faces  tho  north.  The  banks 
of  the  Osweg.atchic,  which  hero  empties  into  the  St.  Law- 
rence, are  high  and  bluJf,  forming  a  crescent-sliaped  curve, 
.)pen  to  the  west.  The  crest  of  the  right  bank  is  lined 
with  handsome  dwelling-houses,  and  has  a  charmingly  pic- 
tures(pie  air  when  viewed  from  the  bridge  Ixflow.  Con- 
spicuous among  the  buildings  is  the  Court-Houso,  which 
still  bears  the  marks  of  a  cannon-ball  sent  across  the  river, 
during  Ihe  last  war.  Ogdcnsburg,  like  Montreal,  has  suf- 
fered terribly  from  fires,  but  in  spite  of  these  drawbacks 
to  its  growth,  it  has  a  poi)ulatiou  of  nine  or  ten  thousand. 

I  left  for  Sackett's  Harbor  the  next  evening  in  the 
steamer  Niagara.  Tho  night  was  superbly  moonlit,  but 
bitterly  cold.  AVe  dropped  down  the  river,  ran  across  to 
Windmill  Point,  the  scene  of  Schultz's  defeat  during  the 
llebellion  of  '37,  and  rounded  up  to  Trescott,  whence  a 
railroad  has  been  opened  to  Ottawa,  on  the  Ottawa  River. 
I  gave  up  all  hopes  of  seeing  the  Thousand  Lslands,  which 


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33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY    14S80 

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AT   HOME   AXD   ABKOAD. 


it  was  said  we  should  not  reach  before  midnight,  but  did 
not  seek  my  stateroom  until  wo  had  touched  at  Morris- 
town  and  Brockville,  the  former  on  the  American,  the 
latter  on  the  Canadian  shore.  They  are  both  thriving 
places,  but  Brockville  bore  away  the  palm  of  appearance, 
in  the  moonlight. 

Speaking  of  palms  reminds  me  how  I  longed  to  be  back 
again  inside  the  Tropics  that  night.  When  I  went  to  my 
state-room,  the  pitcher  contained  a  solid  lump  of  ice  instead 
of  water.  The  loose  window  rattled  in  the  wind,  and  as 
the  bedding  was  cut  according  to  the  width  of  the  berth, 
I  leave  the  reader  to  imagine  whether  a  man  could  tuck 
himself  in  or  not.  The  long  night  passed  away  in  a  weary 
battle,  wherein  Cold  did  not  lose  a  smgle  intrenchment, 
but  Sleep  was  utterly  routed,  and  fled.  I  diversified  my 
misery  by  looking  out  on  the  wintry  shores,  which  were 
coldly  lighted  by  the  moon.  I  have  an  idea  that  I  saw 
some  of  the  Thousand  Islands,  but  I  was  in  such  a  numb, 
torpid,  half-awake  state,  that  I  cannot  to  this  day  tell 
whether  it  was  a  dream  or  a  reality.  I  certainly  have  in 
my  mind  the  images  of  three  or  four  natural  piers  of  rock, 
surmounted  with  dark  clumps  of  pine,  but  they  are  of  such 
a  singularly  weird  aspect  that  I  half-suspect  they  belong  to 
the  realm  of  dreams. 

The  lurid  glare  of  the  dawn  upon  a  black  sky  at  last 
called  me  from  my  freezing  berth.  We  were  in  the  harbor 
of  Kingston,  trying  to  make  fast  to  the  wharf,  for  it  blew  a 
gale.  The  wind  was  so  violent  that  the  captain  at  once 
gave  up  all  idea  cf  proceeding  further.  I  saw  a  boat, 
manned  by  six  oarsmen,  put  off  in  the  endeavor  to  reach  a 


A   NOVEilBEK  TEIP   IJORTIIWAKDS. 


Ill 


brig  which  lay  about  a  hundred  yards  out,  but  it  could  not 
make  the  least  headway,  and  finally  was  driven  back  again. 
The  sea  was  not  very  high,  but  terribly  rough  and  chop- 
ping. As  there  was  no  chance  of  reaching  Sackett's  Harbor 
that  day  by  the  Niagara,  I  decided  to  try  my  luck  in  the 
ferry-boat  which  runs  across  to  Cape  Vincent,  connecting 
with  the  Rome  and  Watertown  Railroad,  and  in  the  mean- 
time  took  a  stroll  through  Kingston.    ^^^■-'^ 

The  place  is  very  much  like  an  English  seaport  town — 
solid,  quiet,  sober  in  its  hue,  and  yet  with  a  rakish  air 
which  is  not  easily  described.  The  same  black  limestone  is 
used  as  in  Montreal,  and  I  noticed  two  or  three  fine  Gothic 
churches — minus  the  towers— built  of  it.  The  Market  Hall 
is  really  a  noble  edifice,  and  presents  an  imposing  front  to 
the  harbor.  Kingston  has  the  reputation  of  being  a  very 
immoral  town ;  whether  deservedly  so  or  not  I  cannot  say. 
My  survey  of  it  was  very  limited,  for  the  air  was  intensely 
keen  and  strong,  and  the  dust,  at  times,  blinding.  I  noticed 
in  the  port  a  vessel  of  1,000  or  1,200  tons,  built  for  an  Eng- 
lish house,  and  was  informed  that  shipbuilding  is  getting 
to  be  quite  an  important  business  ia  the  place,  on  account  of 
the  cheapness  of  timber  and  the  facilities  for  procuring  it. 

At  half-past  eleven  the  little  steamer  Star  dashed  out 
into  the  gale,  hoping  to  reach  Cape  Vincent  in  time  for  the 
3  P.M.  train.  She  was  obliged  to  go  below  Grand  Island, 
in  order  to  avoid  the  force  of  the  wind,  which  increased  the 
distance  to  thirty-two  miles.  She  was  a  staunch  little  craft, 
and  made  good  time  after  we  got  under  the  lee  of  the 
island,  so  that  by  three  o'clock  we  were  in  sight  of  the 
Cape,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  tram  start. 

8* 


f      u 


Ms 


III 


178 


AT  HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


Luckily,  we  had  the  engineer  on  board,  and  the  conductor 
waited  for  us  at  the  freight  depot,  which  we  reached  fifteen 
minutes  after  the  time.  Grand  Island,  which  is  twenty- 
seven  miles  in  length,  is  a  wild,  bleak  tract,  belonging  to 
Canada. 

The  country  between  Cape  Vincent  and  Watertown  has 
a  poor,  unfertile  appearance,  but  seems  well  adapted  for 
grazing.  It  is  undulating  and  rather  monotonous  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  way.  Chaumont  Bay,  an  estuary  of 
Lake  Ontario,  recalls  the  name  of  Le  Ray  de  Chaumont, 
who  is  concerned  in  the  history  of  the  Rev.  Eleazcr  Bour- 
bon.  As  we  approached  Watertown  there  was  a  visible 
improvement  both  in  soil  and  scenery,  and  the  picturesque 
banks  of  the  Black  River  were  all  the  more  agreeable  after 
the  monotonous  country  ilirough  which  we  had  passed. 

I  was  very  pleasantly  impressed  with  the  appearance  of 
Watertown.     It  is,  without  doubt,  the  stateliest  town  of 
its  size  in  the  country.    At  the  Woodruff  House  I  found 
accommodations  not  inferior  to  any  first-class  hotel  in  New 
York,  and  the  view  of  the  public  square  from  its  windows 
needs  only  a  crowd  to  be  metropplitan  in  its  character.    In 
the  centre  of  this  square  is  a  fountain,  which,  unlike  our 
City  fountains,  plai/s.    The  mam  street  is  a  boulevard, 
with  a  double  row  of  trees  between  th^  sidewalk  and  the  " 
central  highway.    On   either  side  thereof  are  neat  resi- 
dences,  each    embowered   in  its  own  private  trees  and 
flowers.     The  Black  River  skirts  the  town,  foaming  down 
a  gorge  of  dark  limestone  rock.    Here  and  there  it  plunges 
into  cataracts,  which  fringe  its  dark-brown  translucence 
with  streaks  of  snow.    Its  color  is  that  of  a  shaded  river— 


A   NOVKMBKB  TEIP  N0ETHWAED8.  170 

a  son  of  the  forests  and  the  mountains,  steeped  in  the  flavor 
of  hemlock  and  fir.  But,  wild  mountaineer  as  it  is,  it 
must  labor  like  the  rest  of  us,  and  keeps  many  a  miU-wheel 
going. 

From  Watertown  I  came  southwards,  and  succeeded  in 
enjoying  the  last  days  of  the  Indian  Summer,  before  the 
winter  from  which  I  had  3ed  overtook  me  again. 


/•  -/v 


ll. 


XVI. 


THE  MAMMOTH  CAYE. 


[MAT,    1856.1 


Pakt  I. — The  Journey  Thithee. 


We  were  a  family  party  of  six,  and  ourselves  and  our 
baggage,  including  a  bucket  for  the  horses,  just  fi'Jed  two 
carriages.  It  was  our  intention  to  have  left  New  Albany, 
Ind.  (where  we  had  been  sojourning  a  day  or  two),  in  e 
morning,  in  order  to  reach  Elizabethtown  the  same  evening; 
but  the  heavy  rains  of  the  previous  night  prevented  U3 
from  starting  before  noon.  Crossing  the  Ohio  RivGr  to 
Portland  we  struck  the  Nashville  turnpike  on  the  outskirts 
of  Louisville,  and  took  up  our  journey  towards  Salt  River 
twenty-two  miles  distant.  The  country  through  which  we 
passed  is  low,  slightly  undulating,  arid  very  fertile.  Now 
and  then  appeared  an  old  family  mansion  surrounded  by  its 
orchards  and  gardens,  and  presenting  much  the  same  aspect 


I 


TUE   MAMMOTH   CAVE. 


181 


of  comfort  and  repose  as  the  country  homesteads  of  Penn- 
sylvania and  Virginia.  There  were  the  same  avenues  of 
locusts,  now  in  snowy  and  fragrant  bloom  ;  the  same  heavy 
brick  dwelling  with  its  portly  front  door,  rarely  opened 
but  on  state  occasions ;  the  same  bowers  of  honeysuckle, 
trellises  of  grapes,  beds  of  peonies  and  crown-imperiaJs, 
and  the  same  scattered  cluste/s  of  out-houses,  backed  by 
the  rounded  tops  of  the  orchard  trees.  The  season  is 
nearly  a  month  in  advance  of  the  valley  of  the  Hudson;  all 
forest  trees — even  the  latest — are  in  their  young  foliage, 
the  apple  and  pear  blossoms  are  gone,  and  the  corn  is 
ready  for  its  first  harrowing. 

The  afternoon  was  intensely  hot  and  sultry.  Heavy 
thunder-clouds  were  piled  up  on  the  northern  and  southern 
horizon,  but  they  gradually  rolled  away  without  crossing 
our  path.  The  latter  part  of  our  journey  was  through 
forests  of  beech,  oak,  and  elm.  The  former  tree,  which 
greatly  predominated,  attains  a  size  and  beiuty  rarely 
seen  east  of  the  Alleghanies.  Its  foliage  is  the  purest  and 
most  brilliant  green,  charmingly  relieved  by  the  smooth, 
white  trunk,  and  the  long,  slender,  feathery  curve  of  the 
drooping  boughs.  We  were  delighted  with  the  alternation 
of  woodland  and  farm-scenery  which  the  road  afforded 

us.    Towards  evening  we  came  again  upon  the  Ohio the 

Beautiful  River,  here  as  elsewhere — and  followed  its  bank 
to  the  mouth  of  Salt  River,  on  the  opposite  bank  of  which 
is  West-Poir.t,  our  resting-place  for  the  night. 

Where  it  debouches  Into  the  Ohio,  Salt  River  is  not 
more  than  fifty  or  sixty  yards  in  breadth,  but  very  deep. 
It  is  never  fordable    even  in  the  dryest   seasons;   and. 


I 


182 


AT   UOME   AND   ABKOAD. 


being  navigable  for  fourteen   miles  above  its  mouth,  has 
not  been  bri'lged  at  this  point.    We  descended  its  steep 
•ind   difficult   banks,  embarked  our  carriage   upon  a  flat 
ferry-boat,  and  were  conveyed  across.    The  view,  looking 
up  the  river,  was  very  beautiful.    Tall  elms  and  sycamores 
clothed  the  banks,  dropping  their  boughs  almost  to  the 
water,  and  forming  a  vista  of  foliage  through  which  the 
stream  curved   out   of  sight  between    wooded  hills.     I 
longed  to  be  rowed  up  it.     While   on  the   spot,  I  took 
occasion  to  inquire  the  derivation  of  the  slang  political 
phrase,    "Rowed  up  Salt  River,"  and  succeeded  m  dis- 
covering it.    Formerly  there  were  extensive  salt-works  on 
the  river,  a  short  distance  from  its  mouth.    The  laborers 
employed  in  them  were  a  set  of  athletic,  belligerent  fel- 
lows,  who  soon  became  noted  far  and  wide  for  their 
achievements  in  the  pugilistic  line.    Hence  it  became  a 
common  thing  among  the  boatmen  on  the  Ohio,  when  one 
of  their  number  was  refractory,  to  say  to  him :    "  We'll 
row  you  up  Salt  River  "—where,  of  course,  the  bully  salt- 
men  would  have  the  handling  of  him.     By  a  natural  figure 
of  speech  the  expression  was  applied  to  political  candidates, 
first,  I  believe,  in  the  Presidential  campaign  of  1840,  and  is 
now  extensively  used  wherever  the  Native-American  lan- 
guage is  spoken. 

About  nine  o'clock  the  next  day  the  clouds  broke  a 
little,  the  rain  of  the  night  ceased,  and  we  started  for 
Elizabethtown.  After  passing  two  or  three  miles  of  fer- 
tile bottoms,  studded  with  noble  beech  woods,  the  road 
entered  a  glen  in  the  Muldraugh  Hills— a  long,  lateral 
branch  of  the  Cumberland  Range,  which  stretches  quite 


Tii,  MAMMOTH   CAVK. 


183 


through  the  centre  of  Kentucky.    The  roaJ  we  were  tra- 
velling is  one  of  the  finest  in  the  United  States— broad, 
smooth,   and   thoroughly    macadamized.     It  follows  the 
windings  of  the  glen  for  three  jr  four  miles,  so  well  graded 
that  the  ascent  ia  harely  peifepMble,    A  brook  swollen 
by  the  rains  formed  below  us,  now  on  this  side,  now  on 
that,  while  numbers  of  tiny  streams  spouted  from  openings 
in  the  limestone   rocks  on  either  hand.    The  elms  and 
beeches  in  the  bed  of  the  glen  lilmost  met  above  our  heads, 
yet  did  not  hide  the  slopes  of  splendid  foliage  of  which 
they  were  the  hem.    In  one  of  the  wildest  spots  the  mouth 
of  a  cavern  opened  on   the  right  hand,  pouring  out   » 
smooth  cascade  of  silvery  water.    The  scarlet  aquilegia, 
the  phlox,  the  white  purslane,  the  violet,  and  other  Spring 
flowers,  grew  in  the  crevices  of  the  rocks,  and  brightened 
the  fairy  solitude. 

After  reaching  the  summit  of  the  glen,  we  entered  a 
rolling  upland  region,  heavily  wooded  with  forests  of  oak, 
hickory,  and  maple.     The  soii  was  thin  and  stony,  and  the 
country  had  rather  a  poor  and  unfertile  aspect  compared 
with  that  along  the  Ohio  River.     The   farm-houses  were 
mostly  built  of  logs,  and  many  of  them  had  what  might  be 
termed  an  inclosed  portico — a  square  opening  of  the  height 
of  the  first  story — passing  entirely  through  them.    All, 
even  the  poorest,  had  their  negro  hut  or  huts  adjoining, 
though  some  of  the  latter  appeared  to  be  tenantless.    The 
impression  these  establishments  made  upon  me  was  that  of 
moderate  activity,  ,  intelligence  ditto,  and  content  with 
things  as  they  are.     We  met  many  men  on  horseback, 
dressed  m  what  appeared  to  be  homespun  cloth— tall. 


if 

f 


_J 


184 


AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 


large-linibed,  robust  individualH,  and  fine  specimens  of  ani- 
mal health  and  vigor.  Occasionally  we  passed  largo,  can- 
vas-covered wagons,  drawn  by  three  or  four  horses.  The 
farmers  saluted  us  with  the  stift*,  silent  nod  peculiar  to 
Anglo-Saxons,  but  the  negro  teamster  fVequentiy  raised 
his  hat  to  the  ladies.  We  saw  but  a  single  carriage, 
driven  by  a  gentleman  who  politely  gave  us  the  best  side  of 
the  road,  notwithstanding  he  was  entitled  to  it.  The  same 
thing  would  not  have  happened  north  of  the  Ohio  River. 

We  stopped  for  dinner  at  the  Cool  Spring  tavern.  The 
landlord,  who  had  very  much  the  air  of  a  parson,  received 
us  with  much  ceremony,  and  then  blew  dolorously  upon  a 
conch-shell  until  "  the  boys,"  who  were  at  work  in  a  distant 
field,  heard  the  summons  and  hurried  home  to  take  charge 
of  our  horses.  We  were  regaled  with  Kentucky  ham, 
eggs,  excellent  coflfee,  and  corn-bread  of  that  peculiar 
sweetness  and  excellence  which  only  a  Southern  cook  can 
give  it.  Indeed,  the  excellence  of  the  country  taverns  in 
Kentucky  was  a  matter  of  constant  surprise  to  me.  With- 
out a  single  exception  we  were  treated  with  a  cordiality, 
and  even  kindness,  which  gave  them  all  a  friendly  and 
home-like  air,  quite  different  from  the  dreary  aspect  of 
similar  institutions  north  of  the  Ohio.  The  fare  also  was 
as  notably  good  as  it  is  notably  bad  in  tlie  more  progressive 
States  of  the  West.  Kentucky  may  be  called  slow  in 
comparison  with  Ohio  and  Illinois,  but  there  is  more 
genuine  comfort  and.  more  genial  social  feeling  within 
her  borders  than  in  either  of  the  latter  States. 

Beyond  Elizabcthtown,  we  journeyed  for  ten  miles 
through  a  rich,  well-wooded  rolling  country  to  the  village 


THK   MAMMOTH    CAVB. 


185 


of  Koiic,  on  the  creek  of  the  same  name,  and  halted  for 
tlio  niglit  at  the  tavern  of  Mr.  Gehagan.  We  found  a 
wood  fire  in  the  wide  chimney  very  agreeable,  for  the 
evening  air  waa  unexpectedly  cool.  I  am  told  that  fires 
are  frequently  kindled  in  the  evenings  as  late  as  the  begin- 
ning  of  June.  With  this  custom,  however,  is  connected 
that  of  leaving  the  doors  open,  vrhich  insures  ventilation. 
It  belongs  perhaps  to  the  out-door  life  of  the  Kentuckians, 
for  I  found  few  doors  that  would  shut  closely.  We  were 
greatly  amused  by  the  imj^ossibility  of  keeping  our  doors 
closed.  In  almost  all  cases  every  one  who  enters,  master 
or  servant,  leaves  them  wide  behind  him.  I  rather  like  the 
habit,  but  it  takes  a  little  time  to  get  used  to  it. 

We  started  early  the  next  morning,  for  the  macadamized 
road  ceased  at  Nolin,  and  we  had  eighteen  miles  of  "  dirt 
road  "  before  us.    Weary  miles  they  were,  for  the  rain  had 
softened  the  sticky  red  clay  soil,  and  our  horses,  though 
willinnr  enough,  were  rather  too  light  for  such  work.    The 
country  was  similar  to  that  we  had  passed,  but  richer,  more 
open,  and  better  cultivated.    With  the  wide,  undulating 
landscape  blooming  and  breathing  of  Spring,  and  a  pale- 
blue  sky  of  the  utmost  clearness  overhead,  I  found  the 
journey  delightful.    After  passing  a  long  wooded  ridge, 
we  saw  the  blue  wavy  line  of  the  Green  River  Hills  before 
As,  but  we  approached  them  very  slowly  until  we  struck  ihe 
turnpike  again,  four  miles  from  Munfordsville.     In  the 
woods  through  wliich  our  road  lay  we  frequently  saw  fat 
rabbits  leaping  among  the  bushes,  and  once  a  large  wild 
turkey  darted  across  the  path  before  us.    Wood-robins  and 
cat-birds  sang  among  the  trees,  and  m  the  evening  long, 


ife- 


18t} 


AT   UOME   AND   ADROAD. 


!^ 


I 


ruBtliiig  lines  of  pigeons  Hew  over  our  heads  on  their  way 
to  the  north-west. 

The  wooded  hills  assumed  more  broken  and  picturesque 
forms  as  we  appruach<.'d  Munfordsville,  and  Suninierseat 
Knob,  beyond  Green  lliver,  made  a  prominent  feature  of 
the  landscape.  The  road  followed  the  windings  of  a  shal- 
low glen,  clothed  with  small  oaks,  for  two  c.  three  miles; 
after  which  we  came  upon  Munfordsville,  the  county  town 
of  Hart  County.  We  drew  up  at  Judge  Kerr's,  near  the 
Court-IIouse,  and  while  our  dinner  was  preparing  had  an 
opportunity  of  inspecting  the  natives,  who  were  gathered 
together  to  vote  at  a  county  election.  No  important  offices 
were  at  stake,  and  the  occasion  seemed  to  be  passing  off 
without  much  excitement  of  any  kind.  There  were  nearly 
as  many  horses  present  as  men,  and  a  few,  but  not  many, 
good  specimens  of  horse-flesh.  A  grocery  opposite  ap- 
peared to  be  doing  a  good  business  in  the  corn-w  hiskey  line 
— a  business  which  appears  to  be  confined  to  groceries,  for 
we  saw  but  one  tavern  on  the  road  where  liquors  were  sold. 
The  tall,  sun-burned  voters  were  collected  into  groups,  dis- 
cussing K.  N.  and  S.  N.  matters,  but  in  rather  a  quiet, 
listless  way,  as  if  they  did  not  consider  the  welfare  of  their 
coinitry  wholly  at  stake. 

We  were  furnished  with  a  dinner  admirable  in  all  re- 
spects, and  after  consulting  with  the  Judge  concerning  th« 
roads  to  the  Mammoth  Cave,  decided  to  go  on  to  Ritter's 
TaveiTi,  at  Woodkinds,  and  there  rest  for  the  night.  The 
Cave  was  but  fifteen  miles  distant  by  the  nearest  road,  but 
it  was  a  very  rough  way  among  the  hills,  and  there  was 
not  enough  daylight  left  to  accomplish  it  with  our  jaded 


TUS  MAMMOTU   CAVE. 


m 


horses.  We  descendc<l  a  steep  bank  to  the  botiom  of  the 
glen  in  which  flows  Green  liiver,  crossed  the  stream  in  a 
ferry-boat,  and  ascended  the  opposite  bank  to  Woodson- 
viUe.  The  two  towns  seem  not  more  than  a  stone's  throw- 
apart,  but  are  separated  by  a  hollow  even  more  wild  and 
beautiful  than  that  of  Salt  River.  The  river  is  a  clear 
green  hue,  fringed  by  noble  elms,  beeches,  sycamores,  and 
sweet  gum-trees,  which  rise  in  walls  of  foliage  from  its 
translucent  floor.  I  thought  of  Bryant's  "  Green  River," 
to  which  his  lines  are  not  more  applicable  than  to  its  Ken- 
tucky  brother : 


"  Yet  fair  as  thou  art,  thou  shunnest  to  glide, 
Beautiful  stronm  I  by  the  village  side ; 
But  windcst  away  from  haunts  of  men, 
To  silent  valley  and  shaded  glen." 

Five  miles  beyond  Woodsonville  we  came  to  a  cluster 
of  houses  on  a  hill,  which  constituted  an  election  precinct. 
There  was  the  usual  congregation  of  men  and  horses. 
Some  ten  or  twelve  of  the  former — full-grown,  voting 
citizens— were  playing  marbles  in  the  middle  of  the  road, 
with  as  much  interest  as  any  group  of  school-boys  I  ever 
saw.  They  paid  not  the  least  regard  to  our  approach,  and 
we  were  obliged  to  drive  around  them  to  avoid  a  collision. 
A  gaunt  individual,  mounted  on  a  lean  sorrel  horse,  rode 
up  to  me  with  the  question  :  "  How  are  the  Know-Nothin's 
gjttin'  along  whar  you  come  from,  stranger  ?  »  I  replied  : 
"  They  are  pretty  well  split  up :  I  come  from  New  York," 
and  asked  him,  in  turn,  what  they  were  doing  in  the  pre- 
sent election.     «  Oh,"  said  he,  "  they  can't  do  nothin'  this 


;j5 


188 


AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 


year,  no  how,  but  next  year  they'll  make  a  'yood  show :  I 
sort  o'  lean  that  way,  mi/self*^ — and  suiting  the  action  to 
the  wor'l  he  leaned  over  his  horse's  neck  until  the  saddle, 
which  was  ungirthed,  began  to  turn,  and  his  head  being 
none  of  the  steadiest,  he  had  some  difficulty  in  regaining 
his  equilibrium. 

The  turnpike  here  ceased,  and  we  came  upon  a  heavy 
dirt-road  leading  through  woodlands  and  pleasant  green 
valleys  between  the  abrupt  "  knobs "  with  which  this  part 
of  the  country  is  studded.  Many  returning  voters  on 
horseback  kept  us  company.  There  was  one  who  passed 
us  in  a  state  of  unconsciousness  mounted  on  a  mare,  behind 
which  ran  a  little  black  mule.  He  reeled  in  the  saddle  at 
such  a  rate  that  I  expected  every  moment  to  see  him 
tumble  into  the  road,  but  he  always  regained  his  balance 
miraculously  at  the  last  moment.  Towards  sunset  we 
found  him  again,  doubled  up  in  a  comer  of  the  fence  dead 
asleep,  but  still  holding  on  to  the  bridle  of  his  mare,  who 
was  grazing  around  his  feet.  At  dusk  we  reached  Wood- 
lands, a  capacious  tavern,  seated  behind  a  lawn  covered 
with  ornamental  shrubbery — a  very  cheerful,  home-like 
place.  Everything  in  and  about  the  house  gave  tokens  of 
neatness  and  comfort.  The  negro  quarters  were  clean  and 
commodious,  and  the  spruce  servants  seconded  our  genial 
host,  Mr.  Ritter,  in  his  endeavors  to  make  our  stay  plea- 
sant. 

"Woodlands  is  eleven  miles  from  the  Cave,  by  a  wild 
road  over  the  hills.  Mr.  Ritter  gave  me  minute  direc- 
tions for  findiner  the  wav.  as  the  countrv  is  almost  iminha- 
bited.     After  travelling  two  miles  through  the  woods  we 


THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE. 


180 


passed  a  log  cabin  ard  clearing,  beyond  vhich  our  way- 
was  blocked  up  by  a  tree  which  had  been  blown  down 
by  the  winds.     Two  of  us  took  rails  from  the  fence  to 
serve  as  levers,  and  as  the  ladies  joined  in  the  work  with 
good  will,  the  log  was  gradually  heaved  aside  sufficiently 
to  allow  the  carriages  to  pass.    After  our  labors  were  over 
three  men  (inmates  of  the  log-cabin)  arrived  for  the  pur- 
pose of  assisting  us.     Crossing  a  deep  valley,  we  climbed 
an  opposite  ridge,  by  a  very  steep  and  difficult  road,  and 
seeing  the  long,  wooded  crest  of  the  hill  extending  far 
before  us,  supposed  that  the  worst  part  of  the  journey  was 
over.     Bui  exactly  at  this  juncture  the  tongue  of  my  car- 
riage snapped  in  twain  in  consequence  of  a  sudden  wrench, 
and  we  were  left  stranded.     We  had  neither  ropes,  knives, 
nor  implements  of  any  kind,  and,  after  holding  a  council  of 
war,  decided  that  the  only  thing  to  be  done  was  to  leave 
the  wreck  in  the  woods.     \V  e  succeeded  in  detaching  the 
broken  parts,  lashing  them  to  the  remaining  carriage,  and 
mounting  three  persons  upon  the  two  horses,  using  the 
carriage  cushions  is  saddles.     One  of  the  natives  of  this 
region,  who  had  ridden  up  immediately  after  the  accident, 
stood  watching  us  during  these  proceedings,  and  at  their 
close  observed:  "  Well,  I  guess  you're  the  right  stripe: 
you  can  get  along  " — after  which  he  left  us. 

We  made  slow  but  merry  travel  through  the  seven  miles 
of  forest  intervening  between  us  and  the  Cave  Hotel,  where 
we  arrived  in  season  for  dinner,  without  further  accident. 


I&'«'f- 


XVII. 


THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE. 


[MAT,    1856.] 


it 


Pabt  II. — ^The  First  Joubney  Under  Ground. 

Notwithstanding  the  irregular  order  of  our  arrival,  after 
our  mishap  in  the  woods,  we  were  cordially  welcomed  by- 
Mr.  Miller,  the  host.  The  hotel  is  a  long,  straggling  pile 
of  wooden  buildings,  with  stone  chimneys  attached  to  the 
exterior  at  the  gable  ends.  A  wing  of  furnished  apart- 
ments joins  its  northern  end,  fronting  upon  a  lawn  where 
tall  forest  tree^  have  been  allowed  to  stand  in  their  natural 
attitudes  and  groupings.  The  main  body  of  the  hotel,  with 
this  wing,  furnishes  at  least  six  hundred  feet  of  portico, 
forming  one  of  the  most  delightful  promenades  imaginable 
for  Summer  weather.  Around  the  place  intervenes  a  nar- 
row girdle  of  cleared  land,  beyond  which  stand  the  primi- 
tive woods,  wherein  th*.  deer  and  wild  turkey  still  make 


THE  MAMMOTH   CAVE. 


191 


their  habitation.  We  heard  the  caU  of  the  latter  as  we 
sat  in  the  shaded  portico.  The  rooms  are  sufficiently  large 
and  comfortable,  though  their  doors  have  the  same  inabi- 
lity to  b3  closed  which  I  have  already  noticed  as  a  charac- 
teristic of  Kentucky  architecture. 

The  season  for  travel  had  hardly  commenced,  and  we 
found  but  seven  visitors  on  our  arrival.  Two  of  these  had 
just  returned  from  a  trip  beyond  the  rivers,  under  the 
charge  of  »  Stephen,"  the  famous  cave  guide,  and  their 
clothes,  bespattered  with  mud,  gave  us  some  indication  of 
tho  character  of  the  trip.  As  our  stay  was  limited  to 
two  days,  we  decided  to  visit  the  cis-fluviai  avenues  the 
same  afternoon,  reservir^  the  grand  journey  over  the 
water  for  the  next  day.  The  rivers  had  been  gradually 
rising  for  four  days,  and  were  then  of  precisely  the  most 
inconvenient  stage,  though  not  yet  impassable.  Mr.  Miller 
informed  me  that  they  rarely  rose  more  than  four  days  in 
succession,  and  there  was  no  likelihood  at  present  that  we 
should  not  be  able  to  cross  them.  I  engaged  Siephan  for 
the  next  day,  and  took  Alfred,  one  of  the  other  guides,  for 
our  iiiiti:ttory  excursion. 

After  dhiing  off  a  noble  haunch  of  venison,  Alfred  made 
his  appearance  with  a  bundle  of  lamps,  and  announced  that 
everything  was  in  readiness  Turning  around  the  hotel  to 
the  northward,  we  entered  a  rocky  ravine  in  the  forest, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  were  made  aware  by  a  gust  of  cold 
wind  that  we  had  reached  the  entrance  to  the  underground 
worid.  The  scene  was  wild  and  picturesque  in  the  ex- 
treme,  yet  the  first  involuntary  sensation  was  something 
akin  to  terror.    The   falling  in   of  the  roof  of  the  main 


m 


192 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


avenue  of  the  cave  as  it  approached  the  surface  of  the 
earth  has  formed  a  gap,  or  pit,  about  fifty  feet  in  depth, 
terminating  in  a  dark,  yawning  portal,  out  of  which  a 
steady  current  of  cold  air  was  breathed  in  our  faces. 
Trees  grew  around  the  edges  of  the  pit,  almost  roofing 
it  with  shade;  ferns  and  tangled  vines  frmged  its  sides; 
and  a  slender  stream  of  water  falling  from  the  rocks  which 
arched  above  the  entrance,  dropped  like  a  silver  veil  before 
the  mysterious  gloom.  The  temperature  of  the  cave  is 
69"  throughout  the  year,  and  that  of  the  upper  air  being 
about  75°,  the  colder  stratum  was  ebbing  out.  When 
the  inside  and  outside  temperatures  are  equal,  as  they  fre- 
quently arc,  there  is  no  perceptible  current. 

Taking  each  a  lighted  lamp,  we  descended  some  rocky 
steps  to  the  floor  of  the  cavern,  passed  behind  the  tinkling 
cascade,   a.id  plunged  into  the   darkness.      The    avenue 
rapidly  contracts,  and  is  closed  by  ar  artificial  wall,  with  a 
door,   which   is  sometimes    locked    to   exclude    pilferers. 
Having  passed  this,  the  daylight  disappeared  behind  us. 
Our  eyes,  blinded  by  the  sudden  transition  to  complete 
darkness,  could  barely  see  a  roof  of  solid  rock  not  far 
above  our  heads,  and  masses  of  loose  stones  piled  on  either 
side.    This  part  of  the  avenue  is  called  "  The  Narrows." 
The  space  gradually  expanded  ;   the  arch  of  the  ceiling 
became  more  dim  end  lofty,  and  the  walls  only  showed 
themselves  by  a  faint  and  uncertain  glimmer.    The  floor 
tinder  our  feet  was  firm  aad  well-beaten,  the  air  we  breathed 
pure  and  refres^hing,  and  a  feeling  of  perfect  confidence 
and  security  replaced  the  shrinking  sensation  which  I  think 
nearly  every  one  must  feel  on  first  entering. 


TOE  MAMMOTH   CAVB. 


193 


As  the  pupils  of  our  eyes  expanded,  and  we  began  to 
discern  more  clearly  by  the  light  of  our  lamps  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  grand  avenue,  we  reached  a  spacious  hall  called 
The  Vestibule,  which  is  said  to  be  directly  under  the  Cave 
Hotel.  It  is  seventy  or  eighty  feet  in  height,  branching  off 
on  one  side  into  a  spacious  cave  called  Audubon's  Avenue. 
Near  it  is  the  Great  Bat-room,  which  hundreds  of  bats 
have  chosen  as  a  place  of  hibernatfon.  We  were  now  in 
the  Main  Cave,  which  extended  for  three  or  four  miles 
before  us  with  an  average  height  of  about  fifty,  and  an 
average  breadth  of  at  least  eighty  feet,  m  some  places 
expanding  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  What  are  the 
galleries  of  the  Vatican,  the  Louvre.  Versailles,  and  the 
Crystal  Palaces  of  London  and  Paris  to  this  gigantic  vault 
hewn  in  the  living  rock?  Previous  to  the  crossing  of  the 
Bottomless  Pit  in  1838,  and  subsequently  of  the  Rivers  in 
1840,  a'i  the  published  accounts  of  the  Mammoth  Cave 
described  only  this  avenue  and  its  branches.  The  sides  are 
perpendicular  walls  with  a  distinct  and  sometimes  bold 
cornice,  and  a  slightly-arched  ceiling  which  often  resembles 
a  groined  vault.  The  limestone  lies  in  horizontal  strata 
with  scarcely  a  fault,  and  all  the  wondorful  forms  which  it 
assumes  are  clearly  traceable  to  the  action  of  water. 

Immt'diately  on  entering,  you  see  the  remains  of  the  salt- 
petrQ  works,  which  were  carried  on  here  from  1808  to 
18i4.  The  old  hoppers  or  leaching  vats,  the  sluices  for 
carrying  off  the  water,  and  many  other  appliances,  are  still 
almost  as  perfect  as  if  the  manufacture  had  just  been  relin- 
quished. The  wood-work  remains  perfectly  sound  and 
uncorrupted,  and  even  the  ruts  made  by  cart-wheels,  and 

9 


",f«'         -?i''!^ 


^^'gS 


^,T?S^S^-^'."^"r^^T?ii?V     y',>*"' 


ff 


IP 

I 


194 


AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 


I      ! 


'A 


the  prints  of  the  oxen's  hoofs  in  the  then  moist  soil,  have 
not  been  effaced.  It  is  said  that  saltpetre  to  the  value  of 
$20,000  was  wash'^d  from  the  earth  in  one  year,  and  that 
in  the  course  of  three  years  the  same  earth  became  as 
richly  impregnated  as  before.  This  property  is  also  com- 
municated to  the  air,  but  probably  in  a  loss  degree.  I 
am  not  aware  that  it  has  ever  been  analysed ;  but  whether 
from  the  absence  of  vegetable  exhalations  and  the  conse- 
quent purity  of  its  constituent  elements,  or  from  the  pre- 
sence of  some  exhilarating  property,  it  is  certainly  more 
bracbg  and  invigorating  than  the  air  of  the  upper  world. 
After  we  had  become  accustomed  to  its  diminished  tem- 
perature, its  inhalation  was  a  luxury.  I  can  only  compare 
it  to  a  very  mild  nitrous  oxide.  The  oxen  which  were 
taken  into  the  cave  to  haul  eai'th  to  the  saltpetre  vats 
became  fat  and  plump  iu  the  course  of  two  or  three  months 
without  any  extra  feed.  As  a  sanitarium  for  consump- 
tive patients,  the  cave  does  not  seem  to  answer ;  but  the 
experiment  has  not  yet  been  fairly  tried — most  of  the 
invalids  who  came  here  having  been  in  the  advanced  stages 
of  the  disease.  Besides,  the  absence  of  sunlir'.t — which 
seems  to  exercise  a  subtle  influence  upon  human  as  upon 
vegetable  vitality — might  counterbalance  in  many  cases 
the  advantages  of  an  equable  and  stimulating  air. 

Nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  beyond  The  Vestibule,  we 
came  to  a  second  dome  inserted  like  a  transept  in  the  main 
avenue  or  nave,  and  called  The  Church.  The  roof,  which 
is  about  eighty  feet  high,  is  almost  Gothic  ;  and  on  the  left 
hand  is  a  gallery  or  choir  with  a  projecting  pulpit  at  one 
of  the  angles.     Here  service  is  often  performed  on  Sun- 


<  ■ 


THE  MAaIMOTH   CAVB.  jgg 

daye  a„ri„g  the  ,„„.™er.    W,  .„„k  „„  ^.,,,  „„  ,„„„ 
tnubers  taken  froo.  the  saltpetre  vat,,  while  the  guide 
ascended  to  the  galler,  and  hnall,  took  hi,  station  i'  the 
pulp...    Here  he  kindled  a  Bengal  light,  which  hi„ed  and 
pnttered  hke  a  «>crificial  flame,  throwing  a  strong  pale- 
bue  lustre  upo,  the  vast,  rude  arches,  and  bri„gi:g'„„t 
the  jagged  walls  in  vivid  relief  against  the  profound  dark- 
ness  on  either  hand.     In  spite  of  the  semi-sanetity  given  to 
..e  ph>ce  th.s  ■llun.ina.ion  seemed  to  me  nothing  les.  than 
an   offenng  to  the   Kentucky  gnomes  and  kobolds-.he 
underground  fairies  who  have  hollowed  for  themselves  this 
marvellous  palace  under  her  green  hills 

Continuing  our  walk,  with  eyes  that  now  saw  cleariy  not 
only  the  grand  dimension,  of  the  avenue,  but  it.  rude  sug. 
gesfons  of  pilasters,  frie.es,  and  eorniees,  and  the  dark 
cloud-patterns  that  mottled  its  gray  ceiling,  we  passed 'in 
sueee,s.on  the  Kentucky  Clifls  (,o  called  fr!m  their  rlZ 
blance  to  the  rocks  on  Kentucky  River),  Willie's  Spring,  a 
t.ny  thread  of  water  which  has  channelled  itself  a fan.a!ie 
fluted  mche  from  the  top  to  the  base  of  the  wall,  and  the 
Second  Hoppers,  where  the  operation,  of  the  old  miner, 

2  *''^''\'"™  ■"■°«-'«'J  °"  "  very  extensive  scale. 
Above  these  hoppers,  on  the  right  hand,  is  the  mouth  of 
t..e  Gothic  Avenue,  branching  off  at  right  angles  to  the 
-am  cave.  Itisreaehedbyaflightofs.eps.  The  subte. 
■anean  scenery  became  more  and  more  striking  „s  we 
advanced.  The  roof  is  coated  with  a  thin  inernsta.ion  of 
gypsum,  wh,ch  .s  colored  in  patches  with  black  oxide  of 
manganese,  giving  U  «  „,a,  r^,„U:„oe  to  a  gray  sky 
flecked  wth  dark  cloud,.    In  the  waving  and  uncertain 


ii^■ 


FSH 


106 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


light  of  the  lamps,  these  clouds  seem  to  move  as  you  walk, 
and  to  assume  capricious  and  fantastic  forms.  Now  you 
see  an  oval  lake  surrounded  with,  shrubbery,  now  a  couch- 
ant  beast,  or  a  sitting  figure  ukc  the  colossal  deity  of  a 
Theban  tomb.  In  one  place  there  is  a  huge  ant-eater,  very 
perfect ;  in  another  an  Indian  chief  wrapped  in  his  blanket ; 
then  a  giant,  with  his  wife  and  child ;  and  finally,  a  char- 
coal sketch,  in  which  the  unaginative  can  see  Napoleon 
crossing  the  Alps. 

Under  the  last  of  these  pictures  Alfred  stopped,  and 
after  stating  that  we  were  Just  one  mile  from  the  entrance, 
threw  the  light  of  his  lamp  upon  a  large  white  rock  which 
lay  upon  our  right  hand,  and  asked  us  what  it  resembled. 
"  Why,"  said  one  of  us,  "  it  is  very  much  like  a  coflin." 
"  You  are  right,"  said  he  ;  "it  is  the  Giant's  Cofl5n,  67  feet 
in  length."  He  then  informed  us  that  he  should  leave  the 
main  cave  and  take  the  road  to  the  River  Styx,  in  order  to 
show  us  some  of  the  most  remarkable  objects  on  this  side 
of  that  stream.  We  followed  him,  one  by  one,  into  a 
crevice  behind  the  coffin,  at  the  bottom  whereof  yawned 
a  narrow  hole.  Half-stooping,  half- crawling,  we  descended 
through  in  irregular,  contracted  passage,  to  a  series  of 
basement  halls,  called  the  Deserted  Chambers.  The  first 
of  these  is  the  Wooden  Bowl,  a  room  about  100  feet  in 
diameter,  with  a  low,  slightly  concave  ceiling.  The  name 
may  have  been  suggested  by  this  circumstance,  although 
there  is  a  story  of  an  ancient  wooden  bowl  having  been 
found  in  it  by  the  first  persons  who  entered.  A  staircase 
called  the  Steps  of  Time — for  what  reason  it  is  impossible 
to  say — leads  to  still  lower  chambers,  two  of  which  are 


THB  MAMMOTH   CAVB. 


197 


connected  by  a  passage  called  the  Arcned  Way,  from  the 
smooth  and  regular  curve  of  its  white  ceUing.  In  the 
furthest  one  is  "Richardson's  Spring,"  a  little  bowl  of 
crystal  water,  which  we  found  very  cool  and  refreshing, 
despite  the  flavor  of  the  limestone  rock.  * 

The  roof  presently  shot  up  mto  a  pointed,  irregular 

vault,  and  we  heard  the  sound  of  dropping  water.    Alfred, 

who  was  in  advance,  cautioned  us  to  remain  still  while  he 

leaned  forward  and  held  out  his  lamp,  which  disclosed  the 

mouth  of  a  pit.    The  sides  were  as  smooth  as  if  hewn  by  a 

stone-cutter,  and  worn  into  deep  grooves  and  furrows  by 

the  waters  of  ages.    A  log  is  placed  along  one  side  to  pro- 

tect  visitors,  and  we  leaned  upon  it  while  he  kindled 

a  sheet  of  oiled  paper  and  suffered  it  to  whirl  slowly  down 

into  the  gulf,  glimmering  on  the  wet  waUs  and  the  dark 

pools  #f  water  in  its  mysterious  womb. 

Leaving  the  deserted  chambers,  we  descended  a  steep 
staircase  into  the  Labyrinth— a  winding  way  thirty  or 
forty  feet  high,  and  barely  wide  enough  for  two  persons  to 
pass.    This  brought  us  to  another  pit,  along  the  brink  of 
which  we  walked,  clambered  up  a  ledge,  and  at  last  reached 
a  window-like  openinor,  where  Alfred  bade  us  pause.    Lean- 
ing  over  the  thin  partition  wall,  the  light  of  our  united 
lamps  disclosed  a  vast  glimmering  hall,  the  top  of  which 
vanished  in  darkness  and  the  bottom  of  which  we  could 
only  conjecture  by  the  loud,  hollow  splash  of  water-drops 
that  came  up  out  of  the  terrible  gloom.    Directly  in  front 
of  us  hung  a  gigantic  mass  of  rock,  which  in  its  folds  and 
masses  presented  a  wonderful  resemblance  to  a  curtuin. 
It  had  a  regular  fringe  of  stalactites,  and  there  was  a  short 


198 


AT  HOMX:  AND  ABBOAD. 


outer  curtain  overlapping  it  at  the  top.  The  length  of  this 
piece  of  limestone  drapery  could  not  have  been  less  than 
one  hundred  feet.  In  a  few  moments,  Alfred,  who  had 
left  xis,  re-appeared  at  another  window  on  the  right  hand, 
where  he  first  dropped  some  burning  papers  into  the  gulf, 
and  then  kindled  a  Bengal  light.  It  needed  this  illununation 
to  enable  us  to  take  in  the  grand  dimensions  of  the  dome. 
We  could  see  the  oval  arch  of  the  roof  a  hundred  feet  above 
our  heads ;  the  floor  studded  with  the  stalagmitic  pedestals 
as  far  below ;  while  directly  in  front  the  huge  curtain  that 
hung  from  the  centre  of  the  dome — the  veil  of  some 
subterranean  mystery — shone  rosy-white,  and  seemed  to 
wave  and  swing,  pendulous  in  the  awful  space.  We  were 
thoroughly  thrilled  and  penetrated  w'th  the  exceeding 
sublimity  of  the  picture,  and  turned  away  reluctantly  as 
the  fires  burned  out,  feeling  that  if  the  cave  had  nothing 
else  to  show  its  wonders  had  not  been  exaggerated. 

Leaving  Goran's  Dome — the  name  which  has  been  given 
to  this  hall — we  retraced  our  v-ay  through  the  Labyrinth, 
and  following  the  main  passage  a  short  distance  further, 
came  to  the  Bottomless  Pit,  formerly  the  limit  of  excursions 
in  this  direction.  It  was  finally  crossed  by  means  of  a  ladder, 
and  is  now  securely  bridged,  and  the  path  along  its  brink 
protected  by  an  iron  railing.  The  bridge  is  renewed  every, 
four  years,  even  though  the  timbers  remain  soimd,  in  order 
to  guard  agamst  all  possibility  of  an  accident.  The  Pit  is  1 75 
feet  deep,  and  is  covered  by  a  pointed  dome  forty  or  fifty  feet 
high.  It  is  a  horrid  gulf— dark,  yawning,  and  awful  as  the 
mouth  of  Tartarus.  Pieces  of  burning  paper  dropped  from 
the  bridge  slowly  fell  into  the  depth,  eddying  backwards  and 


r  1.-"-  '    -  f^^~'  "^  ?^  J-" •j-/^''^=ti 


?«®3;>;; 


THE   MAMMOTH   CAVX. 


199 


forwards  and  showing  the  black,  furrowed  walls  on  either 
side.  The  vault  above  our  heads,  in  its  grooves  and  niches 
and  projecting  points,  reminded  me  very  vividly  of  the 
Moorish  domes  in  the  Alhambra.  There  is  a  atalactitic 
element  in  Saracenic  architecture  which  must  have  had  its 
suggestion  in  Nature. 

The  avenue  beyond  the  pit  leads  to  the  River  Styx,  but 
as  we  had  reserved  that  portion  of  the  cave  for  the  next 
day's  trip,  we  returned  through  the  Deserted  Chambers  to 
the  Main  Cave.    A  short  distance  beyond  the  Giant's  Coffin 
we  reached  the  Great  Bend,  where  the  avenue  changes  its 
direction  at  a  very  acute  angle.     It  is  still  upwards  of  one 
hundred  feet  wide,  and  sixty  or  seventy  in  height,  with  the 
same  rough  friezes  and  cornices,  and  the  forms  of  clouds 
and  phantom  figures  on  its  ceiling.     We  passed  several 
stone  and  frame  houses,  some  of  which  were  partly  in  ruin. 
The  guide  pointed  them  out  as  the  residence  of  a  number 
of  consumptive  patients  who  came  in  here  in  September, 
1843,.  and  remained  until  January.      "I  was  one  of  the 
waiters  who  attended  upon  them,"  said  Alfred.     "  I  used 
to  stand  on  that  rock  and  blow  the  horn  to  call  them  to 
dinner.    There  were  fifteen  of  them,  and  they  looked  more 
like  a  company  of  skeletons  than  anythmg  else."    One  of 
the  nuiuber  died  here.    His  case  was  hopeless  when  he 
entered,  and  even  when  conscious  that  his  end  was  near  he 
refused  to  leave.   I  can  conceive  of  owe  man  being  benefited 
by  a  residence  in  the  cave,  but  the  idea  of  a  company  of 
lank,  cadaverous  invalids  wandering  about  in  the  awful 
gloom  and  silence,  broken  only  by  their  hollow  coighs— 
doubly  hollow   and  sepulchral  there — is  terrible.     On  a 


'«. 


5- 

■?■■. 


200 


▲T   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


mound  of  earth  near  the  Dining  Room  I  saw  some  cedar 
trees  which  had  been  planted  there  as  an  experiment. 
They  were  entirely  dead,  but  the  experiment  can  hardly 
be  considered  final,  as  the  cedar  is  of  all  trees  the  most 
easily  injured  by  being  transplanted. 

I  now  noticed  tliat  the  ceiling  became  darker,  and  that 
the  gray  cornice  of  the  walls  stood  out  from  it  in  strong 
relief.  Presently  it  became  a  sheet  of  unvarying  blackness, 
which  reflected  no  light,  like  a  cloudy  night-sky.  All  at 
once  a  few  stars  glimmered  through  the  void,  then  more 
and  more,  and  a  firmament  as  far  off  and  vast,  apparently, 
as  that  which  arches  over  the  outer  world,  hung  above  our 
heads.  "We  were  in  the  celebrated  Star  Chamber.  I-ean- 
ing  against  a  rock  which  lay  upon  the  right  side  of  the 
avenue,  we  looked  upwards,  lost  in  wonder  at  the  marvel- 
lous illusion.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  effect  of  this 
mock  sky.  Your  reason  vainly  tells  you  that  it  is  but  a 
crust  of  black  oxyd  of  manganese,  sprinkled  with  crystals 
of  gypsum,  seventy-five  feet  above  your  head.  You  see 
that  it  is  a  fathomless  heaven,  with  its  constellation^  twink- 
ling in  the  illimitable  space.  You  are  no  longer  upon  this 
earth.  You  are  in  a  thunder-riven  gorge  of  the  monntains 
of  Jupiter,  looking  up  at  the  strange  firmament  oi  tdat 
darker  planet.  You  see  other  constellations  i^^ii'^j,  ^- 
up  in  the  abyss  of  midnight,  and  witness  the  occultation  of 
remoter  stars. 

The  fascination  of  that  scene  would  have  held  us  there 
for  the  remainde"  of  the  day  if  the  guide  had  permitted  it. 
Afler  indulging  us  for  what  he  considered  a  sufficient  length 
of  time,  he  took  our  lamps,  and  descending  into  a  branch 


yl'II   CAVB. 


201 


5^ 


cavern  that  opened  from  the  floor,  treated  us  to  Bome  fine 
effects  of  light  and  shade.  By  a  skilful  management  of 
his  lights  he  produced  the  aj)pearance  of  a  thunder-cloud 
rising  and  gradually  spreading  over  the  sky.  The  stars  are 
lost ;  the  comet,  gleaming  portentous  on  the  horizon  dis- 
appears ;  and  the  gorge  is  wrapped  in  shadow.  Then  the 
clouds  break  and  clear  away,  and  the  stars  seem  to  twinkle 
with  a  more  bright  and  frosty  lustre  after  their  obscuration. 
"  Take  care  of  yourselves !"  cries  the  guide,  and  we  hoar 
his  footsteps  passing  under  the  floor.  Ho  has  all  our  lamps, 
and  we  can  now  see  but  a  faint  glimmer  through  the 
opening  he  entered.  Now  it  is  but  the  ghost  of  a  glimmer ; 
and  now,  as  his  footsteps  are  more  indistinct,  it  ceuscs  alto- 
gether. Yes,  this  is  darkness— solid,  palpable  darkness. 
Stretch  out  your  hand  and  you  can  grasp  it ;  open  your 
mouth  and  i;.  will  choke  you.  Such  must  have  been  the 
primal  chaos  before  Space  was,  or  Form  was,  or  "  Let  there 
be  light!"  had  been  spoken.  In  the  mtense  stillness  I 
could  hear  the  beating  of  my  heart,  and  the  humming 
sound  made  by  the  blood  in  its  circulation. 

After  a  while  a  golden  nebulous  glow  stole  upon  the 
darkness,  seemingly  brighter  than  the  sunrise  radiance  of 
the  Eas;,  and  increased  until  our  guide  and  lamps  rose 
above  the  horizon.  We  now  returned  to  the  Second 
Hoppers,  and  mounted  to  the  Gothic  Avenue.  For  more 
than  a  q  larter  of  a  mile  this  avenue  has  a  ceiling  perfectly 
flat,  with  every  appearance  of  having  received  a  coat  of 
plaster.  It  is  smoked  over  in  all  parts  with  the  names  of 
vulgar  visitors,  from  which  circumstance  it  is  called  the 
Kegister  Room,     Persons  formerly  carried  candles  in  their 

9* 


apfj*? 


^3L 


g&-* 


202 


AT  HOMB  AND   ABKOAO. 


trips  through  the  cave,  and  by  tying  them  to  poles,  suc- 
ceeded in  not  only  smoking  their  names  upon  the  ceiling, 
but  in  many  instances  their  portraits — for  there  were  fre- 
quently rude  attempts  of  drawing  the  figures  of  sheep  and 
pigs.  The  lamps  used  at  present  prevent  all  such  desecra- 
tion, but  there  are  still  (and  probably  always  Avill  be) 
touching  applications  for  candles. 

The  roof  gradually  became  broken  and  rugged,  studded 
here  and  there  with  unfinished  stalactites,  and  we  now 
entered  the  Gothic  Chapel,  where  those  stony  icicles  become 
large  enough  to  form  ribbed  pillars  and  fair  Gothic  arches. 
The  ceiling  is  not  more  than  thirty  feet  high,  so  that  this 
hall  has  nothing  of  the  grandeur  of  Goran's  Dome,  but  it  is 
very  curious  and  beautiful.  Beyond  this  the  specimens  of 
stalactitic  formation  are  very  numerous,  and  I  have  not  time 
to  describe  them  minutely.  We  passed  Napoleon's  Breast- 
works, Vulcan's  Shop,  the  Elephant's  Head,  and  the  Pillars 
of  Hercules,  hard  by  which  is  the  Lover's  Leap,  where  the 
journey  ceased.  Here  the  floor  of  the  avenue  suddenly 
falls  away,  leaving  a  gulf  about  fifty  feet  deep,  over  which 
projects  a  long,  pointed  rock.  By  descending  into  the  gulf 
you  can  enter  a  lower  gallery  leading  to  other  wonders, 
among  which  the  guide  mentioned  "  The  Devil's  Cooling 
Tub,"  but  we  had  scarcely  sufficient  time  to  explore  it. 

We  retraced  our  steps  to  the  Second  Hoppers,  and  then 
returned  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  having  been  four  hours 
Underground,  and  travelled  about  five  miles.  When  we 
reached  the  entrance  and  looked  out  from  behind  the 
falling  skein  of  w.ater  the  trees  seemed  to  be  illuminated 
With  an  unnatural  fire.    The  daylight  had 


•arm 


THE   MAMMOTH   GATE. 


203 


hue,  intensely  bright,  and  the  sky  was  paler  but  more 
luminous  than  usual.  The  air,  by  contrast  with  the  exhila- 
rating nitrous  atmosphere  below,  felt  close,  unpleasantly 
warm,  and  oppressive — like  that  of  an  ill- ventilated  green- 
house in  "Winter.  There  was  too  much  perfume  in  it — too 
many  varieties  of  vegetable  smells— for  I  found  that  the 
short  absence  had  made  my  scent  unusually  keen  and 
intelligent.  This  first  sensation  soon  wore  off,  and  left  us 
with  no  other  unpleasant  effect  from  our  trip  than  that  of 
great  hunger,  of  which  Mr.  Miller  speedily  reUeved  us. 


^'SST-'i,T.- 


^,^-;^-;-3r^-r--^ 


^■i^i<!=i;'':i?- 


XVIII. 


THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE. 


[MAY,  issn.] 


Part  IH. — A  Day  Bkyond  the  Styx, 

The  next  morning  we  made  preparations  for  an  early  start, 
as  we  had  a  long  day's  journey  before  us.  Our  party  wau 
increased  to  eleven  by  the  addition  of  a  bridal  pair,  a  young 
Tennessean,  and  two  silent  Boston  gentlemen.  We  had 
two  guides :  Stephen,  whom  I  had  specially  engaged.^  and 
Mat.  The  ladies,  with  one  exception,  were  attired  in 
Bloomer  costume,  greatly  to  the  merriment  of  the  party, 
but  much  to  their  own  convenience.  Dresses  are  kept  at 
the  hotel  for  ihe  use  of  lady  visitors,  and  I  would  advise  all 
such  to  make  use  of  them.  In  addition  to  the  supply  of 
lainps  tlie  guides  carried  canteens  of  oil  and  baskets  of 
provisions  for  the  dinner  we  were  to  make  in  the  regions 


TIIK  VAMMOTU   CAVB. 


205 


I 


beyond  the  Styx.    Thus  equipped  and  providea  ..,r,  we  set 
out  immediately  after  breakfast. 

Stephen,  who  has  had  a  share  in  all  the  principal  explora- 
tions and  discoveries,  is  almost  as  widely  known  aa  the 
Cave  itself.     He  is  a  slight,  graceful,  and  very  handsome 
mulatto  of  about  thirty-five  years  of  age,  with  perfectly 
regular  and  clearly  chiselled  features,  a  keen,  dark  eye,  and 
glossy  hair  and  moustache.    He  is  the  model  of  a  guide — 
quick,  daring,  enthusiastic,  persevering,  with  a  lively  appre- 
ciation of  the  wonders  he  shows,  and  a  degree  of  intelli- 
gence unusual  in  one  of  his  class.    He  has  a  smattering  of 
Greek  mythology,  a  good  idea  of  geography,  histery,  and 
a  limited  range  of  literature,  and  a  familiarity  with  geolo- 
gical technology  which  astonished  me.    He  will  discourse 
upon  the  various  formations  in  the  Cave  as  fluently  as  Pro- 
fessor Silliman  himself.     His  memory  is  wonderfully  reten- 
tive, and  he  never  hears  a  telling  exp.ession  without  trea- 
suring it  up  for  later  use.    In  this  way  his  mind  has  become 
the  repository  of  a  great  variety  of  opini  ns  and  compari- 
sons, which  he  has  sagacity  enough  to  collate  and  arrano-e, 
and  he  rarely  confuses  or  misplaces  his  material.     I  think 
no  one  can  travel  under  his  guidance  without  being  inte- 
rested in  the  man,  and  associating  him  in  memory  with  the 
realm  over  which  he  is  chief  ruler. 

Mat,  who  ranks  next  to  Stephen  among  the  guides,  is 
also  a  mulatto,  of  about  the  same  age— a  careful,  patit-nt, 
intelligent,  and  amiable  man,  but  with  less  geological  know- 
ledge than  the  latter.  He  does  not  belong  to  ihe  cave 
propurty,  but  is  hired  out  by  his  master.  Stephen  and 
Alfred  belonged  to  Dr.  Croghan,  the  late  owner  of  the  cave. 


206 


AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 


1'- 


m 


5^ 


*■ 


5;:^  I. 


and  are  to  be  manumitteti  in  another  year,  with  a  number 
of  other  slaves.    They  are  now  receiving  wageu,  in  order 
to  enable  them  to  begin  freedom  with  a  little  capital,  in 
Liberia,  their  destined  home.    Stephen,  I  hear,  has  com- 
menced the  perusal  of  Bkckstone,  with  a  view  to  practise 
law  there,  but  from  his  questions  concerning  the  geography 
of  the  country,  I  foresee  that  his  tastes  will  lead  him  to 
become  one  of  its  explorers.    lie  will  find  room  and  verge 
enough  in  the  Kong  mountains  and  about  the  sources  of  the 
Niger,  and  if  I  desired  to  undertake  an  exploration  of  those 
regions,  I  know  of  few  aids  whom  I  would  sooner  choose.* 
There  was  no  outbreathing  ♦"rom  the  regions  below  as 
we  stood  at  the  entrance  to  the  Cave,  the  upper  atmosph  j'-e 
having  precisely  the  same  temperature.    We  advauced  in 
single  file  down  the  Main  Avenue,  which,  from  the  increased 
number  of  lamps,  showed  with  greater  distinctness  than  on 
our  first  trip.    Without  pausing  at  any  of  the  objects  of 
interest  on  the  voad,  we  marched  to  the  Giant's  Coffin, 
crawled  through  the  hole  behind  it,  passed  the  Deserted 
Chambers,  and  reached  the  Bottomless  Pit,  the  limit  of  our 
■  journey  in  this  direction  the  previous  day. 

Beyond  the  Pit  we  entered  upon  new  ground.  After 
passing  from  under  its  Moorish  dome  the  ceiling  became 
low  and  the  path  sinuous  an(^  rough.  I  could  only  walk 
by  stooping  considerably,  an«  it  is  necessary  to  keep  a 
sharp  look  out  to  avoid  striking  your  head  against  the  trans- 
verse jambs  of  rock.  This  passage  is  aptly  called  the  Vn^- 
ley  of  Humiliaiion.    It  branches  off  to  the  right  into 

*  Stephen,  however,  remaiued  at  the  cave  until  manumitted  bv  Death. 
Ho  died  in  18^8. 


THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE. 


207 


another  passage  caUed  Pensico  Avenue,  which  contains 
some  curious  staler  -r.  formations,  similar  to  the  Gothic 
Gallery.    TV^e  did      ;     -plore  it,  but  turned  to  the  left  and 
entered  an  extremely  narrow,   wmdiug    passage,   which 
meanders  through  the  solid  rock.    It  is  caUrd  Fat  Man's 
IVLsery,  and  any  01.3  whose  body  is  more  than  eighteen 
inches  in  breadth  wUl  have  trouble  to  get  through.     The 
largest  man  who  ever  passed  it  weighed  two  hundred  and 
sixty  pounds,  and  any  gentleman  weighing  more  than  that 
must  leave  the  best  part  cf  the  cave  unexplored.    None 
of  us  came  within  the  scope  of  prohibition  (Nature,  it 
seems,  is  opposed  to  corpulence),  and  after  five  minutes' 
twisting  we  emerged  into  a  spacious  hall  called  the  Great 
Relief,^  Its  continuation  formi  an  avenue  which  leads  to 
Bandits'  Hall— a  wild,  rugged  vault,  the  bottom  of  which 
is  heaped  with  huge  rocks  that  have  fallen  from  above. 
All  this  part  of  the  Cave  is  rich  in  striking  and  picturesque 
effects,  and  presents  a  more  rude  and  irregular  character 
than  anything  we  had  yet  seen. 

At  the  end  of  Bandits'  Hall  is  the  Meat-Room,  where  a 
fine  collection  of  limestone  hams  and  shoulders  are  sus- 
pended  from  the  ceiling,  as  in  a  smoke-house.  The  resem- 
blance, which  is  really  curious,  is  entirely  owing  to  the 
action  of  water.  The  air  now  grew  perceptibly  damp,  and 
a  few  more  steps  brought  us  to  the  entrance  of  Rivp-  Hall. 
Here  the  ceding  not  only  becomes  loftier,  but  the  floor 
gradually  slopes  aw  a)  before  you,  and  you  look  down  into 
the  vast  depths  and  uncertain  darkness,  and  question  your- 
self if  the  Grecian  fable  be  not  indeed  true.  While  I 
paused  on  the  brink  of  these  fresh  mysteries  the  others  of 


208 


AT   IIOMK   AND   ABROAD. 


II 


is 


ihe  party  liad  gone  ahead  under  the  charge  of  Mat; 
Stephen,  who  remained  with  ni. ,  proposed  that  we  should 
descend  to  the  banks  of  the  Styx  and  see  them  crossing  the 
river  upon  the  Natural  Bridge.    We  soon  stood  upo*^  the 
brink  of  the  black,  silent  Avater ;  the  arch  of  the  portal  was 
scarcely  visible  in  the  obscurity  far  above  us.    Now,  as  far 
below,  I  saw  the  twinkle  of  a  distant  lamp,  then  another 
and  another.     "  Is  it  possible,"  I  asked,  "  that  they  have 
descended  so  much  further  ?"    "  You  forget,"  said  Stephen, 
"  that  you  are  looking  into  the  river  and  see  their  reflected 
images.    Stoop  a  little  and  you  will  find  that  they  are  high 
above  the  water."     I  stooped,  looked  under  an  arch,  and 
saw  the  slow  procession  of  golden  points  of  light  passing 
over  the  gulf  under  the  eaves  uf  a  great  cliff;  but  another 
procession  quite  as  distinct  passed  on  below  until  the  last 
lamp  disappeared  and  all  was  darkness  again. 

We  then  resumed  the  regular  trail,  which  led  us  along 
the  edge  of  a  cliff  about  thirty  feet  above  the  waters  of 
the  Dead  Sea,  a  gloomy  pool,  which  is  evidently  connected 
with  the  Styx.    An  iron  railing  has  been  placed  along  the 
edge  to  protect  those  whose  nerves  are  weak.    At  the  end 
of  the  cliff  we  descended  a  long  ladder,  clambered  over 
masses  of  rocks  made  slippery  by  the  water,  and  gained 
the  Natural  Bridge,  which  is  a  narrow  path  or  ledge  around 
a  projecting  rock,  bridging  the  river.    The  path  is  only 
about  eighteen  inches  wide,  and  a  false  step  would  precipi- 
tate the  explorer  thirty  feet  below  into  the  Styx.     Such  is 
the  caution  of  the  guides,  however,  and  the  sense  of  secu- 
rity which  even  the  most  timid  feel,  that  no  accident  has 
ever  happened.     Five  minutes  more  and  the  roughest  and 


THB  MAMMOTH   CAVK. 


209 


moet  slippery  scrambling  brought  us  to  the  banks  of  the 
Lethe  Kiver,  where  we  found  thn  rest  of  the  party. 

The  river  had  risen  sbco  the  previous  day,  and  was  at 
the  most  incoHvenient  stage  possible.     A  part  of  the  River 
Walk  was  overflowed,  yet  not  deep  enough  to  float  the 
boats.    Mat  waded  out  and  turned  the  craft,  vhich  was 
moored  to  a  projecting  rock,  as  near  to  us  as  the  water 
would  allow,  after  which  he  and  Stephen  carried  us  one  by 
one  upon  their  shoulders  and  deposited  us  in  it.     It  was  a 
rude,  squci-e  scow,  well  plastered  with  river  mud.    Boards 
were  laid  across  for  the  ladies,  the  rest  of  us  took  our  seats 
on  the  muddy  gunwales,  the  guides  plied  their  paddles,  and 
we  were  afloat  on  Lethe.     One  hundred  feet  above  our 
heads  hung  ihe  vaulted  rock;  half-way  down  there  ran  a 
regular  cornice,  arched  on  the  under  side,  and  with  jagged 
edge,  showing  that  there  had  formerly  been  two  grand 
corridors,  placed  vertically,  which  some   convulsion  had 
broken  into  one.     Either  end  of  this  mighty  hall  was  lost 
in  the  darkness,  but  the  soimd  of  our  voices  rose  to  the 
rcof  and  reverberated  along  it  until  they  seemed  like  the 
voices  of  unstan  beings  speaking  back  to  us  out  of  the  dis- 
tance.    The  water  has  a  steady  temperature  of  54° ;  it  is 
clear,  apparently  of  a  pale  green  color,  and  pleasant  to  the 
taste.    It  had  a  very  pe:ceptible  current,  and  flowed  in  a 
diagonal  course  across  the  line  of  our  march,  or,  as  nearly 
as  I  could  estimate,  in  the  direction  of  Green  River. 

After  a  ferriage  of  about  one  hundred  yards,  we  landed 
on  a  bank  of  soft  mud  beside  a  smaU  arm  of  the  river, 
wiiich  had  overflowed  the  usual  path.  We  sank  to  our 
ancles  in  the  moist,  tenacioug  soil,  floundering  laboriously 


210 


AT   HOME   AND  ABROAD. 


1 1 
■  1 


along  aniU  we  were  brought  to  a  halt  by  Eciio  River,  the 
third  and  last  stream.  This  jigain  is  divided  into  three  or 
four  arms,  which,  meandering  away  under  low  arches,  finally 
unite.  At  present,  owing  to  the  high  water,  there  is  but 
one  arch  open,  so  that  instead  of  the  usual  single  voyage 
of  three  quarters  of  a  mile,  we  were  obliged  to  make 
sevsral  short  ferriages.  Twice  again  were  the  guides 
obliged  to  carry  us  on  their  shoulders  through  the  shal- 
lows, and  once  we  succeeded  in  passing  along  a  narrow 
ledge  of  rock  overhanging  a  deep  pool,  only  by  using 
Stephen's  foot  as  a  stepping-stowe.  After  crossing  the 
second  branch  of  Echo  River  we  found  ourselves  at  the 
foot  of  a  steep  hill  of  loose  sand,  beyond  which  we  could 
see  masses  of  rock  piled  up  almost  to  the  ceiling  of  the 
l^fty  hall.  This  Mas  the  commencement  of  Purgatory,  a 
portion  of  which  domain  we  were  obliged  to  traverse  on 
account  of  the  difficulty  of  getting  through  what  is  called 
the  Second  Arch. 

Stephen  here  entered  the  boat  alone,  lay  down  on  his 
back  in  the  bottom,  shot  under  a  low  projecting  rock,  and 
was  soon  lost  to  our  sight.  Under  the  guidance  of  i»x.it  we 
climbed  the  sand-hills,  mounted  the  loosely-pileci  rocks,  and 
after  a  short  purgatorial  experience,  descended  again  to  a 
low  arch  opening  on  the  last  branch  of  Echo  Iliver.  As 
we  stood  on  the  wet  rocks,  peering  down  into  the  black 
translucence  of  the  silent,  mysterious  water,  sounds — first 
distant,  then  near,  then  distant  again — stole  to  us  from 
under  the  groined  vaults  of  rock.  First,  the  dip  of  many 
oars;  then  a  dull,  muffled  peal,  rumbling  away  like  the 
echoes  of  thunder ;  then  a  voice  marvellously  sweet,  but 


THE   HAMJklOTH   CAVB. 


211 


presently  joined  by  others  sweeter  still,  taking  up  the 
dying  notes  ere  they  faded  into  silence,  and  prolonging 
them  through  remoter  chambers.  The  full,  mellow  strains 
rose  imtil  they  seemed  sung  at  our  very  ears,  then  relapsed 
like  ebbing  waves,  to  wander  off"  into  solitary  halls,  then 
approached  again,  and  receded,  like  lost  spirits  seeking  here 
and  there  for  an  outlet  from  the  wo. Id  of  darkness.  Or 
was  it  a  chorus  of  angels  come  on  some  errand  of  pity  and 
mercy  to  visit  the  Stygian  shores  ?  As  the  heavenly  har- 
monies thickened,  we  saw  a  gleam  on  the  water,  and  pre- 
sently a  clear  light,  floating  above  its  mirrored  counterfeit, 
swept  into  sight.  It  was  no  angel,  but  Stephen,  whose 
single  voice  had  been  multiplied  into  that  enchanting 
chorus. 

The  whole  party  embarked  in  two  amall  boats,  and  after 
a  last  voyage  of  about  two  hundred  yards,  were  landed 
beyond  the  M^aters,  and  .xoc  to   explore  the  wonderful 
avenues  of  that  new  world  of  which  Stephen  is  the  Colum- 
bus.   The  River  Hall  here  terminates,  and  the  passages  are 
broken  and  irregular  for  a  short  distance.    A  few  mmutes 
of  rough  trav^el  brought  us  to  a  large  circular  hall  with  a 
vaulted  ceiling,  from  the  centre  of  which  poured  a  cascade 
of  crystal  water,  striking  upon  the  slant  side  of  a  large 
reclming  boulder,  and  finally  disappearing  through  a  funnel- 
ah.iped  pit  m  the  floor.    It  sparkled  like  a  shower  of  pearls 
in  the  light  of  our  lamps,  as  we  clustered  around  the  brink 
of  the  pit  to  drink  from  the  stores  gathered  in  those  natu- 
ral bowls  which  seem  to  have  been  hollowed  out  for  the 
uses  of  the  invisible  gnomes. 

Beyond  Cascade  Hall  commences  Silliman's  Avenue,  a 


212 


AT  UOMK   AND   ABROAD. 


r 


passage  about  twenty  foot  wide,  forty  or  fifty  in  height, 
and  u  mile  £  id  a  half  in  length.  The  floor  is  in  some 
1  .uces  smooth  and  firm,  in  others  broken  and  rough,  with 
deep  dips  whicli  often  communicate  with  smaller  passages 
or  "^ide  cuts"  that,  after  winding  through  the  rock  for 
some  distance,  find  their  way  back  to  the  main  avenue.  The 
walls  on  either  side  have  bold,  projecting  cornices,  above 
which  springs  a  well-arched  ceiling.  There  are  few  objects 
of  special  interest  in  this  avenue,  but  I  was  never  tired  of 
watching  the  procession  of  lamps  as  they  wound  up  and 
down  its  rocky  door,  and  the  picturesque  play  of  light  and 
shad«  on  the  gray  walls  and  cornices,  the  niches  andhoUcw 

vaults. 

After  a  steady  walk  of  a  mile  and  a  half— the  distance  is 
not  exaggerated,  for  I  timed  it— we  reached  a  gigantic 
bluff,  which,  facing  us,  divided  the  avenue  into  two  parts. 
That  to  the  left  retains  the  name  of  Silliman,  and  continues 
for  nearly  a  mile  further  without  leading  to  aay  result. 
The  other  was  called  "The  Pass  of  El  Ghor"  by  some 
traveller  who  had  been  in  Arabia  Petra;a— but  the  name  is 
a  pleonasm,  as  el  ghor  signifies  a  narrow,  difficult  pass 
between  rocks.    While  we  rested  a  few  minutes  on  some 
broad  stones  at  the  base  of  the  cliff  Stephen  climbed  up  to 
the  platform  behind  the  broad  cornice  of  the  wall,  and 
brought  us  down  a  handful  of  fibrous  gypsum  as  white  as 
snow.    The  ladies  eagerly  appropriated  pieces  of  it  as  speci- 
mens, but  he  observed  depreciatingly,  "You  will  throw 
that  away  before  long." 

Our  lamps  were  replenished  and  we  entered  El  Ghor, 
which  is  by  far  the  most  picturesque  avenue  in  the  cave.   It 


THE   MAMMOTH    CAVB. 


213 


is  a  narrow,  lofty  passage  meandering  through  the  heart  of 
a  mass  of  horizontal  strata  of  limestone,  the  broken  edges 
of  which  assume  the  most  remarkable  forms.     Now  there 
are  rows  of  broad,  flat  shelves  overhanging  your  head ; 
xiow  you  sweep  around  the  stem  of  some  mighty  vessel 
with  its  rudder  set  hard  to  -starboard ;  now  you  enter  a  lit- 
tle vestibule  with  friezes  and  mouldings  of  almost  Doric 
symmetry  and  simplicity ;  and  now  you  wind  away  into  a 
Cretan  labyrinth  most  cncouth  and  fantastic,  whereof  the 
Minotaur  would  be  a  proper  inhabitant.    It  is  a  continual 
succession  oi'  surprises,  and,  to  the  appreciative  visitor,  of 
raptures.    Tio  pass  is  somewhat  more  than  a  mile  and  a 
half  in    length,   and  te     inaies   in   a   curious  knot   or 
entanglement  of  passages  leading  to  two  or  more  tiers  of 
avenues. 

We  were  now,  according  to  Stephen's  promises,  on  the 
threshold  of  wonders.  liefore  proceeding  further  Ave 
stopped  to  drink  from  a  fine  sulphur  spring  which  fills 
a  natural  basin  in  the  bottom  of  a  niche  made  on  purpose 
to  contain  it.  "We  then  climbed  a  perpendicular  ladder, 
passing  through  a  hole  in  the  ceiling  barely  large  enough  to 
admit  our  bodies,  and  found  ourselves  at  the  entrance  of  a 
narrow,  lofty  passage  leading  upwards.  When  all  had 
made  the  ascent  the  guides  exultingly  lifted  their  lamps 
and  directed  our  eyes  to  the  rocks  overhanging  the  aperture. 
There  was  the  first  wonder,  truly!  Clusters  of  grapes 
gleaming  with  blue  and  violet  tints  through  the  water 
which  trickled  over  them,  hung  from  the  clifl!s,  while  a 
stout  vine,  springing  from,  the  base  and  climbing  nearly  to 
the  top,  seemed  to  support  them.    Hundreds  on  hundreds 


III 


214 


AT  ROMS   AWD   AJBOAt). 


of  bunches  clustering  so  thickly  as  to  conceal  the  leaves, 
hang  forever  ripe  and  for  ever  unplurked  in  that  marvellous 
vintage  of  the  subterranean  world.  For  whose  hand  shall 
squeeze  the  black,  infernal  wine  from  the  g.apes  that  grow 
beyond  Lethe  ? 

Mounting  for  a  short  distance,  this  new  avenue  suddenly 
turned  to  the  left,  widened,  and  became  level ;  the  ceiling  is 
low,  but  beautifully  vaulted,  and  Washington's  Hall,  which 
we  soon  reached,  is  circular,  and  upwards  of  a  hundred  feet 
in  diameter.  This  is  the  usual  dining-room  of  parties  who 
go  beyond  the  rivers.  Nearly  five  hours  had  now  elapsed 
since  we  entered  the  cave,  and  five  hours  spent  in  that 
bracing,  stimulating  atmosphere  might  well  justify  the 
longing  glances  which  we  cast  upon  the  L  .skets  carried  by 
the  guides.  Mr.  jVIiller  ha<l  foreseen  our  appetites,  aiid 
there  were  stores  of  venison,  biscuit,  ham,  and  pastry,  more 
than  sufficirat  for  all.  We  made  our  mid-day  or  rather  midr 
night  meal  sitting,  like  the  nymph  who  wrought  Excalibar, 

"  Upon  the  hidden  bases  of  the  hills," 


:'♦! 


li 


buried  far  below  the  green  Kentucky  forests,  far  below  the 
forgotten  sunshine.  For  in  the  cave  you  forget  that  there 
is  an  outer  world  somewhere  above  you.  The  hours  have 
no  meaning:  Time  ceases  to  be:  no  thoagbt  of  labor,  no 
sense  of  responsibility,  no  twinge  of  conscience,  intrudes  to 
suo-trest  the  existence  you  have  left.  You  walk  in  some 
limbo  beyond  the  confines  of  actual  life,  yet  no  nearer  the 
world  of  spirits.  For  my  part  I  could  not  shake  off  the 
impression  that  I  was  wandering  on  the  outside  of  Uranus 


THE   MAMMOTH   CAVK. 


21S 


or  Neptune,  or  some  planet  still  more  deeply  buried  in  the 
frontier  darkness  of  our  solar  system. 

"Washington  Hall  marks  the  commencement  of  Elindo 
Avenue,  a  straight  hall  about  sixty  feet  w.de,  twenty  in 
height,  and  two  miles  long.     It  is  completely  incrusted  from 
end  to  end  with  crystallizations  of  gypsum,  white  as  snow. 
This  is  the  crowning  marvel  of  the  cave,  the  pride  and  the 
boast  of  the  guides.    Their  satisfaction   is  no  less  than 
yours,  as  they  lead  70U  through  the  diamond  grottoes, 
the  gardens  of  Ri)arry   efflorescence,   and    the    gleaming 
vaults  of   this  magical    avenue.      We  first  entered    the 
"Siicw-ball  Room,"   where  the  gnome-children   in   their 
sports  have   pepi)ered  the   gray  walls  and   ceilinfr  "••[♦h 
thousands  of  Know-white   projecting   discs,   so  p  ifect   i. 
their  fragile  beauty,  that  they  seem  ready  to  melt  away 
under  the  blaze  of  your  lamp.    Then  commences  Cleveland's 
Cabinet,  a  gallery  of    rystals,  the  richness  and  variety  of 
which  bewilder  you.    It  is  a  subterranean  conservatory, 
filled  with  the  flowers  of  all  the  zones ;  for  theve  are  fiw 
blossoms  expanding  on  the  upper  earth  but  are  mimicked 
in  these  gardens  of  Darkness,     I  cannot  lead  you  from 
niche  to  niche,  and  from  room  to  room,  examining  in  detail 
the  enchanted  groAvths ;  they  are  all  so  rich  and  so  wonder- 
ful that  the  memory  does  not  attempt  to  retain  them. 
Sometimes   the  hard  limestone   rock  is  changed  into   a 
parterre   of  white   roses;    sometimes   it   is   starred   with 
opening   daisies;    the  sunflowers   spread   their  flat   discs 
and  rayed  leaves  ;  the  feathery  chalices  of  the  cactus  hang 
from  the  clefts ;  the  niglit-blooming  cereus  opens  securely 
her  snowy  cup,  for  the  morning  never  comes  to  close  it ; 


'  i^ 


216 


AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 


the  tulip  is  here  a  virgin,  and  knows  not  that  her  sisters 
above  are  clothed  in  the  scarlet  of  shame. 

In  many  places  the  ceiling  is  covered  with  mammary 
cry'i.\lJ/5.;!'/n,  as  if  a  myriad  bubbles  were  rising  beneath 
its  i"'  iring  surface.  Even  on  this  jewelled  soil  which 
spaikles  all  around  you,  grow  the  lilies  and  roses,  smgly 
overhead,  but  clustering  together  towards  the  base  of  the 
vault,  where  they  give  place  to  long,  snowy,  pendulous  cac- 
tus-flowers, which  droop  like  a  fringe  around  diamonded 
niches.  Here  you  see  the  passion-flower,  with  its  curiously 
curved  pistils ;  there  an  iris  with  its  lanceoiate  leaves ;  and 
again,  bunches  of  celery  with  stalks  white  and  tender  enough 
for  a  fairy's  dinner.  There  are  occasional  patches  of  gyp- 
sum, tinged  of  a  deep  amber  color  by  the  presence  of  iron. 
Through  the  whole  length  of  the  avenu.'  there  is  no  cessa- 
tion of  the  wondrous  work.  The  pale  rock-blooms  burst 
forth  everywhere,  crowding  on  each  other  until  the  brittle 
sprays  cannot  bear  their  weight,  and  they  fall  to  the  floor. 
The  slow,  silent  efflorescence  still  goes  on,  as  it  has  done 
for  ages  in  that  buried  tropic. 

What  mostly  struck  me  in  my  underground  travels  was 
the  evidence  of  desiffn  which  I  found  everywhere.  Why 
should  the  forms  of  the  Earth's  outer  crust,  her  flowers  and 
fruits,  the  very  heaven  itself  which  spans  her,  be  so  wonder- 
fully reproduced  ?  What  laws  shape  the  blossoms  and  the 
foliage  of  that  vast  crystalline  garden  ?  There  seemed  to 
be  something  more  than  the  accidental  combinations  of  a 
blind  Chance  in  what  I  saw— some  evidence  of  an  informing 
and  directing  Will.  In  the  secret  caverns,  the  agencies 
which  produced  their  wonders  have  been  at  work  for  thou- 


,  THB  MAMMOTH   CAVB. 

sands  of  years,  perhaps  thousands  of  ages,  fashioning  the 
sparry  splendors  in  the  womb  of  darkness  with  as  exquisite 
a  grace,  as  true  an  instinct  of  beauty  as  in  the  palm  or  the 
lily,  which  are  moulded  by  the  hands  of  the  sun.  What 
power  is  it  which  lies  behind  the  mere  chemistry  of  Nature, 
impregnatmg  her  atoms  with  such  subtle  laws  of  symmetry  ? 
What  but  Divine  Will,  which  first  gave  her  being,  and 
which  is  never  weary  of  multiplying  for  Man  the  lessons  of 
His  infinite  wisdom  ? 

At  the  end  of  Elindo  Avenue  the  floor  sinks,  then  ascends, 
and  is  at  last  blocked  up  by  a  huge  pile  of  large,  loose  rocks! 
When  we  had  reached  the  foot,  the  roof  of  the  avenue  sud- 
denly lifted  and  expanded,  and  the  summit  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  as  they  are  called,  leaned  against  a  void  waste 
of  darkness.     We  climbed  to  the  summit,  about  a  hundred 
feet  above,  whence  we  looked  down  into  an  awful  gulf, 
spanned  far  above  our  heads  by  a  hollow  dome  of  rock! 
The  form  of  this  gigantic  haU  was  nearly  elliptical.     It  was 
probably  150  feet  in  height  by  500  in  length,  the  ends  ter- 
minating near  the  roof  in  the  cavernous  mouths  of  other 
avenues.    The  guides  partly  descended  the  hill  and  there 
kindled  a  brilliant  Bengal  light,  which  disclosed  more  clear- 
ly the  form  of  the  hall,  but  I  thought  it  more  impressive  as 
Its  stupendous  proportions  were  first  dimly  revealed  by  the 
light  of  our  lamps.    Stephen,  who  discovered  this  place, 
gave  it  the  name  of  the  «  Dismal  Hollow.'* 

3crambUng  along  the  ridge  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  we 
gained  the  entrance  to  the  cavern  opening  on  the  left,  which 
we  followed  for  about  two  huiidred  yards,  when  it  termi- 
nated in  a  lofty  circular  dome,  called  Croghan's  HaU.    The 

10 


AMI 


I 


mi 


218 


AT   HOMB   AND   ABROAD. 


floor  on  one  side  dropped  suddenly  into  a  deep  pit,  around 
which  wore  several  cushions  of  stalagmite,  answering  to 
short  stalactites,  hanging  from  the  ceiling  far  above.  At 
the  extremity  of  the  hall  w  a,s  a  sort  of  recess,  formed  by 
stalactitic  pillars.  The  wall  b  ?hmd  it  was  a  mass  of  veined 
alabaster.  "  Here,"  said  Stephen,  "  is  your  Ultuna  Thule. 
This  is  the  end  of  the  Mammoth  Cave,  nine  miles  from  day- 
light." But  I  doubt  whether  there  is  really  an  end  of  the 
cave  anv  more  than  an  end  of  the  earth.  Notwithstandincc 
the  ground  we  had  traversed,  we  had  left  many  vast  avenues 
unexplored,  and  a  careful  search  would  no  doubt  lead  to 
further  discoveries. 

"VYe  retraced  our  steps  slowly  along  Elindo  Avenue, 
stopping  every  few  minutes  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  bowers 
of  fairy  blossoms.  After  reaching  Washmgton's  Hall  we 
noticed  that  the  air  was  no  longer  still,  but  was  blowing 
fresh  and  cool  in  our  faces.  Stephen  observed  it  also,  and 
said:  "There  has  been  a  heavy  rain  outside."  Entering 
the  pass  of  El  Ghor  again  at  Martha's  Vineyard,  we  walked 
rapidly  forward,  without  making  a  halt,  to  its  termination  at 
Silliman's  Avenue.  The  distance  is  reckoned  by  the  guides 
at  a  little  more  than  a  mile  and  a  half,  and  we  were  just 
forty  minutes  in  walking  it.  "We  several  times  felt  fatigue, 
especially  when  passing  the  rougher  parts  of  the  cave,  but 
the  sensation  always  passed  away  in  some  unaccountable 
manner,  leaving  us  fresh  and  buoyant.  The  crossing  of 
the  rivei-s  was  accomplished  with  some  labor,  but  without 
accident.  I  accompanied  Stephen  on  his  return  through 
the  second  arch  of  Echo  River.  As  I  sat  alone  in  the 
prow,  gUding  under  the  low  vaults  of  rock  and  over  the 


fH 


THB   MAMMOTH   CAVE. 


219 


silent,  transparent  darkness  of  the  mysterious  stream,  I 
could  heai  the  tones  of  my  boatman's  voice  glidmg  down 
the  caverns  like  a  wave,  flowing  more  and  more  faintly 
until  its  vibrations  were  too  weak  to  move  the  ear.  Thus, 
as  he  sang,  there  were  frequenlly  three  or  four  notes,  each 
distinctly  audible,  floating  away  at  different  degrees  of 
remoteness.  At  the  last  arch  there  was  only  a  space  of 
eighteen  inches  between  the  water  and  the  rock.  We  lay 
down  on  our  backs  in  the  muddy  bottom  of  the  boat,  and 
squeezed  through  to  the  middle  branch  of  Echo  Kiver, 
where  we  found  the  rest  of  the  party,  who  had  gone  round 
through  Purgatory. 

After  again  threading  Fat  Man's  Misery,  passmg  the 
Bottomless  Pit  and  the  Deserted  Chambei  >,  we  at  last 
emerged  into  the  Main  Avenue  at  the  Giant's  Cofiin.    It 
was  six  o'clock,  and  we  had  been  ten  hours  in  the  Cave, 
but  as  my  party  proposed  leaving  on  the  morrow,  I  deter- 
mined to  push  my  journey  a  little  further,  and  to  visit  the 
Chief  City  at  the  end  of  the  Main  Avenue.     This  was  the 
principal  object  of  curiosity  before  the  discovery  of  the 
rivers,  but  is  now  rarely  visited.     I  took  leave  of  the  party, 
and  with  Stephen  for  a  guide  started  ofl'  alone.     We  passed 
the  Star  Chamber,  beyond  which  no  path  has  been  cleared 
in  this  direction.     The  floor  is  covered  with  loose  rocks 
which  have  fallen  from  above,  and  walking  becomes  a  very 
rough  and  laborious  process.    A  portion  of  the  avenue  is 
called  the  Salt  Room,  from  the  crystals  of  pure  glauber 
rT,lts  which  Ml  from  the  ceiUng  in  flakes,  and  cover  the 
floor  like  a  light  snow. 
Just  one  mile  from  the  Star  Chamber  a  rough  stone 


i 


220 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


cross  has  been  erected,  to  denote  that  the  Distance  has 
been  carefully  measured.    The  floor  here  rises  considerably, 
whiob   contracts  the  dimensons  of  the  avenue,  although 
they  are  stHl  o..  a  grand  scale.    About  half  a  mile  further 
we  came  to  the  Great  Crossings,  where  five  avenues  meet. 
In  the  dim  light  it  resembled  tne  interior  of  a  great  cathe- 
dral, vnose  ?.ched  roof  is  a  hundred  feet  above  its  pave- 
ment.   Turning  to  the  left,  at  right  angles  to  our  former 
direction,  we  .walked   (still  following  the  Main  Avenue) 
some  ten  minutes  further,  when  the  passage  debouched  into 
a  spacious  hall,  with  a  cascade  pouring  from  the  very  suoi- 
mit  of  it."  lofty  dome.    Beyond  and  adjoining  it  was  a 
second  hall,  of  neariy  equal  dimensions,  with  another  cas- 
cade falling  from  its  roof     We  turned  again  to  the  right, 
finding  the  avenue  still  more  irregular  and  contracted  than 
before,  but  had  not  advanced  far  before  its  ceiling  began 
to  rise,  showing  a  long  slope  of  loosely-piled  rocks,  lying  in 
strong  relief  against  a  background  of  unfathomable  darkness. 
I  climbed  the  rocks  and  sat  down  on  the  highest  pinnacle, 
while  Stephen  descended  the  opposite  side  of  the  slope 
and  kindled  two  or  three  Bengal  lights  which  he  had  saved 
for  the  occasion.     It  needed  a  stroi  ger  illumination  than 
our  two  lamps  could  aflfbrd  to  enable  me  to  comprehend 
the  stupendous  dimensions  of  this  grandest  of  underground 
chambers.     I  will  give  the  figures,  but  they  convey  only  a 
faint  idea  of  its  colossal    character:    length,   800    feet- 
breadth,  300  feet;   height,   120  feet;  area,  between  four 
and  five  acres.     Martin's  picture  of  Satan's  Council-Hall  in 
Pandemonium  would  hardly  seem  exaggerated  if  offered 
as  a  representation  of  the  Chief  City,  so  far  and  vanishing 


m 


THB  MAMMOTH  CAVE.  221 

fa  the  perspective  of  it,  extremities,  so  tremendous  the 
span  of  «s  gigantic  dome. 

I  sat  upon  the  summit  of  the  hiU  until  the  last  fires  had 
burned  out,  and  the  hall  became  even  more  vast  and  awful 
m  the  wanmg  light  of  our  lamps.    Then  taking  a  last  look 
backwards  through  the  arch  of  the  avenue-to  my  mind 
the  most  m,pressive  view-we  returned  to  the  halls  of  the 
cascades.   Stephen  proposed  showing  me  the  Fairy  Grotto 
which  was  not  ftr  off,  and  to  accomplish  that  end  I  per! 
formed  a  grievous  amount  of  stooping  and  crawlmg  i^ 
the  sohtary  cave.   l„e  grotto,  which  is  a  deUcate  stalactic 
chamber  resembling  a  Gothic  oratory,  was  very  picturesque 
and  elegant,  =md  I  did  not  regret  the  trouble  I  had  taken 
to  reach  .t.    Both  of  us  were  somewhat  fatigued  by  this 
tune    however;  we  were  trenching  upon  the  night  hours, 
and  begmnmg  to  feel  symptoms  of  hunger,  so  we  here 
turned  abouN  and  resumed  the  most  direct  way  to  the 
mouth  of  the  cave. 

When  we  heard  the  tinkling  drops  of  the  little  cascade 
over  the  entrance,  I  looked  up  and  saw  a  patch  of  deep, 
tender  blue  set  in  the  darkness.  In  the  midst  of  it  twinkled 
a  whue  sur-whiter  and  more  dazzUng  than  any  star  I 
ever  saw  belore.  I  paused  and  drank  at  the  trough  under 
thewaterail,for,  like  the  Fountain  of  Trevi  at  Rome, 
may  be  that  those  who  drink  there  shall  return  ag^n. 

f^r.r  T"'""  '"  "■'  '""'  "'  "">  -P'--  --M  -e 
found  that  a  fierce  tornado  had  passed  along  durmg  the 

day ;  trees  had  been  torn  .m  V 1 j  ■     •   , 

.      ,  1  ^.r  "^=  *"ots  and  Ourled  down 

m  all  duections;  stunning  thunders  had  jarred  the  air,  and 
the  wet  earth  was  fairly  paved  Mith  leaves  cut  off  by  the 


i 


222 


AT   HOME  AKD   ABROAD. 


heavy  hail — yet  we,  buried  in  the  heart  of  the  hills,  had 
heard  no  sound,  nor  felt  the  slightest  tremor  in  the  air. 

Tne  stars  were  all  in  their  places  as  I  walked  back  to  the 
hotel.  I  had  bt  ^  twelve  hours  under  ground,  in  which 
time  I  had  walked  about  twenty-four  miles,  I  had  lost  a 
day — a  day  with  its  joyous  morning,  its  fervid  noon,  its 
tempest,  and  its  angry  sunset  of  crimson  and  gold ;  but  I 
had  gained  an  age  in  a  strange  and  hitherto  unknown 
world — an  age  of  wonderful  experience,  and  an  exhaustless 
store  of  sublime  and  lovely  memories. 


Before  retiring  to  rest  I  engaged  one  of  the  servants  to 
give  me  a  grooming  after  the  manner  of  the  Orientals, 
finishing  with  an  external  application  of  Kentucky  whiskey, 
in  consequence  whereof  I  arose  the  next  morning  at  sun- 
rise without  the  least  soreness  or  fatigue.  Stephen,  not- 
withstanding his  labors,  and  the  prospect  of  their  repetition 
the  same  day,  was  up  and  in  readiness  to  accompany  me  to 
White's  Cave,  which  is  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  from 
the  Hotel  in  a  south-western  direction.  It  was  discovered 
in  1805  by  one  of  the  saltpetre  miners,  after  whom  it  was 
named.  The  entrance  is  a  narrow  opening  in  the  side  of  a 
knoll  studded  with  gray  limestone  rocks. 

We  crawled  into  the  hole,  which  might  have  been  a 
panther's  lair  in  former  times.  The  floor  speedily  drops, 
so  that  we  were  able  to  stand  upright.  Two  stout  pillars 
of  stalactite  upheld  the  roof,  and  the  light  of  our  lamps 
showed  us  a  row  of  similar  pillars  stretching  away  into  the 


M- 


TUE   MAMMOTH   CAVE. 


223 


darkness.    This  is  the  striking  feature  of  the  Cave,  which 

is  not  more  than  six  or  seven  hundred  feet  in  length  by 

fifty  to  eighty  in  breadth.    There  is  a  dyke  in  the  limestone 

rock  which  forms  the  ceiling,  crossing  the  cave  obliquely 

from  one  end  to  the  other.    The  ^  rater,  oozing  through, 

has  gradually  built  a  row  of  reeded  Gothic  pillars,  singly 

or  in  clusters,  with  pedestals  of  stalagmite  between ;  and 

sometimes  broad  curtains  of  semi-translucent  stone  hang 

from  one  to  the  other.     The  work  is  still  going  on,  and 

apparently  with  great  rapidity,  for  new  points  were  already 

formed  on  stalactites  which  had  been  broken  off  some  years 

ago.     The  water  which  dripped  into  the  hollow  basins  in 

the  floor  was  so  wonderfully  transparent  as  to  be  almost 

invisible,  and  it  needed  measurement  to  convince  me  that 

some  of  the  pools  which  appeared  to  be  only  three  inches 

in  depth  were  actually  as  many  feet. 

Beyond  this  colonnade  we  found  another  and  a  shorter 
one,  striking  it  obUquely,  at  one  end  of  which  is  the  most 
remarkable  stalactite  formation  I  ever  beheld.  It  was  a 
perfect  tent,  about  eight  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base,  with 
a  height  of  twenty  feet.  The  interior  is  hollow,  and  the 
smooth  incrustations  hanging  from  the  top  fall  around  you 
in  folds  like  those  of  loose  canvas,  with  a  broad  fringe 
sweeping  the  floor.  Stephen  gave  it  no  name,  but  it  might 
appropriately  be  called  the  Tent  of  the  Gnomes.  Near  the 
end  of  the  main  line  of  pillars  is  a  mass  of  fluted  and  chan- 
nelled stalactite  eight  feet  in  breadth,  which  he  called  the 
Temple  of  Diana.  It  has  a  faint  resemblance  to  a  Grecian 
fagade.  Near  this  the  floor  suddenlv  terminates,  leaving- 
a  yawning  pit  whose  opposite  side  ascends  steeply  to  the 


I: 


I   • 


S24 


AX   UOMJi:   AND   AUUUAD. 


fretted  ceiling,  closing  up  the  cave.  The  place  is  well 
worthy  of  a  visit  on  account  of  the  variety  and  beauty  of  its 
stalactitic  formations,  which  far  surpass  those  of  the  Mam- 
moth Cave. 

During  our  stay  at  the  hotel  the  carriage  had  been 
brought  in  and  repaired,  our  horses  were  thoroughly  re- 
cruited, and  we  now  prepared  to  leave,  regretting  the  neces- 
sity which  did  not  allow  us  to  spend  a  few  days  longer 
under  its  pleasant  roof  Mr.  Miller,  the  kindest  and  most 
genial  of  landlords,  was  about  setting  out  for  Loubville, 
and  offered  to  be  our  guide  by  a  near  way  over  the  hills  to 
Munfordsville.  Before  taking  a  final  leave  of  the  Mam- 
moth Cave,  however,  let  me  assure  those  who  have  followed 
me  through  it,  that  no  description  can  do  justice  to  its 
sublimity,  or  present  a  fair  picture  of  its  manifold  wonders. 
It  is  the  greatest  natural  curiosity  I  have  ever  visited,  Nia- 
gara POt  excepted,  and  he  whose  expectations  are  not  satis- 
fied by  its  marvellous  avenues,  domes,  and  sparry  grottoes, 
must  be  either  a  fool  or  a  demigod.  Yet  very  few  compa- 
ratively of  those  who  travel  in  the  West  ever  find  their  way 
to  it.  The  number  of  visitors  averages  about  two  thousand 
a  year,  the  greater  part  of  whom  are  Kentuckians,  Tennes- 
seans,  and  foreigners. 

An  erroneous  impression  has  gone  abroad  with  regard  to 
the  facilities  for  crossing  the  subterranean  rivers.  The 
timid  are  scared  by  stories  of  parties  being  imprisoned 
beyond  the  Styx  by  a  sudden  rise  of  the  water,  and  kept 
in  peril  of  a  lingering  death.  There  is  no  possibility  of 
any  such  accident  occurring.  The  rivers  rise  slowly,  and 
do  not  reach  a  height  sufficient  to  make  the  arches  impas- 


THI!  HAUMOTH   CAVE. 

sable  more  than  twice  or  thrice  in  a  year.  At  such  times 
visitors  are  not  allowed  to  proceed  beyond  them;  but  even 
at  their  highest  point  there  is  always  an  opening  through 
Purgatory,  communicating  with  the  transfluvial  avenues 
which  the  water  never  fills.  It  may  add  to  the  interest  of  a 
narrative  to  depict  the  risk  of  being  cut  off  by  the  waters 
and  left  to  starve,  but  in  other  respects  it  is  simply  ridicu- 
lous.  From  the  discovery  of  the  Cave  to  the  present  time 
no  fatal  accident  has  ever  occurred. 

Owing  to  the  rise  in  the  rivers,  we  did  not  succeed  m 
procuring  any  eyeless  fish,  which  are  only  found  at  low 
water.     Mat  caught  a  few  crawfish,  which,  like  their  finny 
companions,  have  neither  eyes  nor  rudimentary  hints  of 
eyes.    In  other  particulars  they  did  not  appear  to  differ 
much  from  the  ordinary  crawfish  of  our  country  streams. 
In  the  SoUtary  Cave  I  founu  crickets  of  large  size,  with 
>2ry  diminutive  eyes,  which,  however,  did  not  appear  to 
possess  the  faculty  of  vision.    I  menaced  them  repeatedly 
with  my  finger  without  disturbing  them  in  th^  least,  but  if 
I  touched  one  of  their  long  antennaB  ever  so  lightly,  they 
scampered  off  in  great  alarm.    There  are  rats  in  some  of 
the  chambers,  but  they  are  probably  vagrants,  attracted  by 
the  dinners  of  visiting  parties,  and  not  permanent  inha- 
bitants. 


10* 


I 


XIX. 


MACKINAW,  AND  THE  LAKES. 


[1866.] 


' 


By  some  coincidence  or  fatality  I  never  visit  St.  Louis,  or 
Springfield,  111.,  without  taking  rain  with  me.  When  I  left 
the  former  city,  on  the  morning  of  the  17th  of  May,  the 
streets  were  full  of  mud  and  the  sky  dark  and  leaky.  As 
we  reached  Alton  the  rain  began  to  fall  vigorously,  bright- 
ening the  green  of  the  prairies  over  which  we  sped,  it  is 
true,  but  shutting  in  their  horizon,  so  that  we  had  all  of 
their  monotony  with  none  of  their  glorious  expansion. 
Springfield,  which  we  reached  in  due  time,  was  in  a  state 
that  recalled  my  Winter's  experiences — including  loss  of 
overshoes.  I  made  no  allusion  to  the  fact,  however ;  for  I 
have  already  discovered  that  you  cannot  touch  up  a  West- 
em  towi)  or  railroad,  even  in  a  jocular  way,  without  excit- 
ing somj  rampant  local  prejudice  and  superfluous  indigna- 
tion.   In  the  West  all  the  traits  of  our  national  character 


MACKINAW,    AND   THE   LAKES. 


227 


are  intensified— its  energy,  its  impulsiveness,  its  independ- 
ence, its  aggressiveness,  its  ambition,  and  its  sensitiveness. 
I  remember  hearing  Sir  jr-nry  Bulwer  once  say  that  no 
man  was  more  skilful  ir  turning  a  penny  than  a  Yankee, 
and  none  more  splendid  in  squandering  a  guinea.     This  is 
still  more  true  of  the  Western  m:tn  than  of  the  New-Eng- 
lander;   uut  the  former— to  his  credit  be  it  spoken— has 
much  le  s  of  the  chaftering  and  huckstering  spirit  than  tho 
latter.     The  taint  of  selfishness   which   characterizes   all 
money-making  operations  is  less  apparent :  his  ventures  arc 
bolder,  his  habits  more  free  and  lil)eral.     It  is  a  milder 
form  of  the  same  business-life  ..hich  I  found  in  California  in 
1849  ;  and  this  is  probably  one  reason  of  the  charm  which 
Western  life  ex-rcises  upon  nearly  all  who  come  withm  its 
influence. 

I  must  do  Springfield  the  justice  to  say  that  it  has  its 
sunshiny  side,  when  the  mud  dries  up  with  magical  rapidity 
and  its  level  streets  become  fair  to  look  upon.  The  clouds 
cleared  away  on  the  morning  after  my  arrival,  and  when 
my  friend,  Captain  Diller,  took  me  to  the  cupola  of  the 
State-House  and  showed  me  the  wide  ring  of  cultivated 
prairie,  dotted  with  groves  of  hickory,  sugar-maple,  and  oak, 
which  inspheres  the  capital  of  Suckerdom,  I  confessed  that 
it  was  a  sight  to  be  proud  of.  The  youn^- green  of  the 
woods  and  the  promising  wheat-fields  melted  nway  gradu- 
ally into  blue,  until  the  fronts  of  distant  farm-houses  shone 
in  the  morning  sun  like  the  sails  of  vessels  in  the  ofting. 
The  wet  soil  of  the  cornfields  resembled  patches  of  black 
velvet— recalling  to  my  mind  the  dark,  prolific  loi  -n  of  the 
NUe  VaUey. 


m\ 


I  i'  'I 


22S 


AT   HOME  AND   ABKOAI). 


I  left  in  the  midnight  train  for  Chicago.  At  Blooming, 
ton,  which  we  reached  at  2  a.m.,  our  conductor  left  us ; 
but  his  substitute  did  not  make  his  appeo ranee.  The  train 
Wi>ited,  the  passengers  grew  impatient,  but  nobody  knew 
where  the  gentleman  lodged;  there  was  no  one  in  the 
office  who  cared  to  look  after  the  matter;  the  engineer 
said  it  was  not  his  business,  and  so  the  train  still  waited. 
After  a  strong  remonstrance  from  some  passengers  who 
were  bound  east  and  feared  to  lose  the  morning  trains 
from  Chicago,  a  man  was  sent  to  search  for  the  conductor, 
but  he  returned  unsuccessful.  Finally,  at  daybreak,  after 
a  delay  of  two  hours  and  a  quarter,  the  missing  man 
appeared — having  ovei  :iept  his  time.  lie  remarked,  jo- 
cosely, "  /ou've  been  waiting,  I  guess,"  and  started  the 
train.  But,  owing  to  the  delay,  we  met  the  down  train  in 
the  centre  cf  a  wide  prairie,  backed  ten  or  twelve  miles  to 
switch  off,  waited  for  a  Rock  Island  train  at  Joliet,  and 
came  into  Chicago  about  noon — losmg  «^e  morning  trains 
and  obliging  the  Eastern  travellers  to  spend  their  Sunday 
in  Cleveland  instead  of  New  Yo^'i. 

The  difference  of  season  between  St.  Louis  and  Chicago 
is  very  apparent.  We  left  the  trees  in  summer  foliage  at 
the  former  place,  and  watched  the  green  gradually  grow 
paler  and  paler,  until,  on  the  shore  of  Lake  Michigan,  only 
the  ^uds  of  the  earliest  trees  were  open,  and  their  leaves 
half-grown.  The  great  prairie  between  Bloomington  and 
Vermilion  River  was  spread  out  fl  it  to  the  horizon  like  a 
green  ocean,  sprinkled  with  flakes  of  pink  and  blue  and 
golden  and  crimson  foam.  It  was  a  great  contrast  to  the 
dreary,  brown  expanse  I  had  looked  upon  duiing  the 


«•• 


MACKINAW,  AKD  T1L8  LAKES. 


220 


winter.  But  a  prairie  cannot  bo  properly  appreciated 
from  the  window  of  a  railroad  car.  J  longed  for  the  little 
black  Arab  of  Newark,  Ohio,  or  the  gray  Morgan  of 
Dixon,  to  career  across  its  flowery  solitude,  chasing  the 
flying  horizon.  Give  me  a  prairie  for  a  race-course  or  a 
hunting-ground ;  but  not — though  it  yield  mo  150  bushels 
of  corn  per  acre — for  a  habitation ! 

Having  already  tried  every  railroad  leading  out  of  Chi- 
cago, I  determined  to  return  homo  by  »'.  Lakes.  The 
steamers  on  the  new  route  to  Colli'igwood.  and  Toronto 
had  just  commenced  running,  and  ofiered  the  greatest 
inducements  in  the  way  of  scenery ;  so  we  took  passage 
on  the  "  Queen  City,"  and  left  Chicago  at  a  late  hour  on 
Sunday  evening,  the  20th.  The  boat,  which  was  a  fleet 
and  handsome  steamer,  newly  fitted  up  for  the  season,  was 
not  crowded,  and  we  secured  pleasant  state-rooms  in  the 
after  cabin.  We  found  intelligent  i  'd  amiable  officers,  aa 
attentive  steward,  a  good  table,  and  all  other  requisites  to 
the  enjoyment  of  a  lake  \  oyage,  and  were  favored,  in  addi- 
tion, with  the  smoothest  water  ard  the  clearest  skies. 

When  T  awoke  next  morning,  we  were  in  Milwaukee 
River.  Here  the  boat  was  detained  a  day  in  order  to  take 
in  freight ;  and  I  had  the  opportunity  of  revisiting  some 
Wisconsin  frien  is.  The  stay  was  made  fortunate  by  an 
unexpected  mcetmg  with  two  shipmates  of  the  Japan 
Expedition  ;  and  I  heard  the  adventu'ous  youth  who 
climbed  with  me  the  precipices  of  the  Bonin  Islands 
relate  his  more  perilous  feat  of  scaling  the  walls  of  Nan- 
king and  astonishing  the  Chinese  rebels.  In  the  evening 
it  was  discovered  that  the  boiler  had  sprung  a  leak,  and 


230 


AT   UOME   AND   ABHOAD. 


'1 


i 

i  r 


that  the  necessary  repairs  would  detain  us  another  day — 
a  delay  which  none  of  us  regretted.  Milwaukee  is  as 
pleasant  a  place  to  visit  as  it  is  beautiful  to  look  upon. 
Seen  from  the  hills  in  the  rear,  with  its  i)ale  yellow  houses 
rising  against  the  blue  of  the  lake,  it  is  a  copy,  in  cooler 
tints,  of  some  town  on  the  Mediterranean  shores. 

As  I  was  sauntering  down  to  the  boat  on  the  second 
evening  I  was  overtaken  by  an  African  gentleman  of  pecu- 
liar blackness  and  purity  of  race.    He  accosted  me — de- 
siring to  know  where  the  mailboat  from  Chicago  came  in. 
I  pointed  out  what  I  supposed  to  be  the  place,  whereupon 
he  drew  near  and  commenced  a  more  confidential  conversa- 
tion.    "  I'm  gwine  down  to  the  boat,"  said  he,  "  'cause  of 
a  lady  and  gentleman.     De  gentleman  I  seed  a  Mobile  ago 
in  do  street ;  de  lady — she's  coming  in  de  boat.     I'se  bound 
to  be  dar  when  de  lady  comes."     Supposing  he  had  been 
dispatched  by  some  gentleman  to  meet  an  expected  guest, 
I  asked,  "Will  you  know  the  lady  when  you  see  her?" 
"  Gosh !  "  he  answered,  with  a  grin ;  "  I'se  ought  to  know 
lier — she's  my  wife !     She's  comin'  on,  thinkin'  she's  gwine 
for  to  marry  de  gentleman  what  I  seed ;  but  I  tell  you  she 
don't  marry  nobody  else  in  dis  here  State  'ceptin'  myself" 
He  added  that  he  had  only  been  married  three  months,  in 
which  time  she  had  spent  all  his  money,  and  that  he  had 
known  her  intention  ot  running  away  from  him  a  week 
previous.     "  Well,"  said  I,  "  if  you  knew  it,  why  didn't 
you  take  measures  to  prevent  her  ?  "     "  Oh,"  he  answered, 
chuckling  at  hij  own  sagacity ;  "  I  tought  I'd  jist  wait,  and 
see  whether  she'd  be  elewated  enough  to  go."     The  other 
gentleman,  he  informed  me,  was  in  the  whitewashing  busi- 


MACKINAW,    AND   THE  LAKES. 


231 


ness,  but — with  a  shake  of  the  head  and  a  display  of  ivory 
— he'd  "spile  dat  gentleman's  'spectorations ;  he'll  make 
no  more  contracts  in  dat  dere  Ime."  I  regretted  that  I 
could  not  await  the  arrival  of  the  boat  and  witness  the 
meeting,  which  must  have  been  still  more  characteristic 
and  diverting. 

We  left  Milwaukee  at  sunrise  on  Wednesday  morning, 
running  northward  along  the  Wisconsin  shore.  The  coim- 
try  is  low  and  covered  with  woods  except  where  they  are 
broken  in  upon  by  small  farms,  picketed  here  and  there 
like  the  advanced  sentriea  of  that  besieging  civilization 
which  shall  soon  sweep  away  the  serried  ranks  of  the  forest. 
The  pine  becomes  more  frequent,  lifting  its  dark,  ragged 
arms  high  above  the  gray  of  the  budding  birch  and  the 
faint  green  of  the  larch.  Ozaukee  or  Port  Washington, 
thirty  miles  north  of  Milwaukee,  appears  to  great  advan- 
tage from  the  lake,  with  its  clusters  of  white  houses  rising 
gradually  from  the  water's  edge  to  the  summit  of  the  low 
hills.  Sheboygan,  which  we  reached  about  noon,  is  a  con- 
siderably larger  and  more  important  place.  It  is  one  of 
the  outlets  of  the  rich  and  growing  country  around  and 
beyond  Lake  Winnebago,  and  is  connected  by  a  plankroad 
with  Fond  du  Lac.  Judging  from  the  number  of  buildings 
in  the  course  of  erection,  it  is  no  exception  to  the  general 
law  of  progress  in  the  West. 

In  the  afternoon  we  touched  at  Manitowoc  and  Two 
Rivers,  both  so  young  that  there  is  barely  ground  enough 
cleared  for  them  to  stand  upon,  and  the  primitive  forest 
still  shuts  out  their  sunset  view.  There  arc  al  -ady  stores, 
taverns,  German  lagei'-beer  saloons,  and  other  signs  of 


232 


AX   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 


growth  in  abundance.  The  Michigan  shore,  although  be- 
tween sixty  and  seventy  miles  distant,  was  lifted  into  the 
air  by  a  mirage,  and  distinctly  visible.  This  effect  is  con- 
tinued until  after  sunset ;  and  I  even  saw  Manitou  Island, 
sixty-five  miles  off,  by  moonlight.  The  air  was  clear, 
bracing,  and  pure,  but  so  cold  that  I  did  not  venture  on 
deck  without  a  thick  overcoat. 

In  the  morning  we  were  opposite  Beaver  Island,  where  a 
branch  of  the  Mormon  sect  is  colonized.    So  far  as  I  could 
learn  they  are  not  polygaraists,  and  are  independent  of  the 
Salt  Lake  organization.    The  Michigan  shores  soon  after- 
wards  came  into  sight,  and  a  lighthouse  far  ahead  an- 
nounced our  approach  to  Mackinaw  Straits.     The  country 
on  both  sides  is  densely  covered  with  woods,  which  in 
some  places  were  on  fire,  sending  thick  columns  of  smoke 
into  the  air.    I  noticed  several  steam  saw-mills,  and  some 
new  frame  houses  standing  in  cleared  spots,  but  the  greater 
part  of  the  coast  is  yet  uninvaded  by  settlers.    Passing  the 
promontory  of  St.  Ignace,  on  the  northern  shore,  we  en- 
tered Lake  Huron,  heading  for  Mackinaw  Island,  which  is 
about  twenty  miles  distant.     The  long  island  of  Bois  Blanc 
lay  to  the  southward.    The  surface  of  the  lake  was  scarcely 
ruffled  by  the  sweet  western  wind ;  the  sky  was  of  a  pale, 
transparent  blue,  and  the  shores  and  islands  w-ere  as  sharply 
and  clearly  defined  as  if  carved  on  a  crystal  tablet.    It  was 
a  genuine  Northern  realm  we  had  entered — no  warmth,  no 
depth  of  color,  no  undulating  grace  of  outline,  but  bold, 
abrupt,  positive  form,  cold,  pure  brilliancy  of  atmosphere, 
and  an  cxpref?sion  of  vigor  and  reality  which  would  make 
dreams  impossible.    If  there  is  any  air  in  which  Action  is 


MACKINAW,   AND  THE  LAKES. 


233 


the  very  charm  and  flavor  of  Life,  and  not  its  curse,  it  is 
ihe  air  of  Mackinaw. 

We  ran  rapidly  up  to  the  town,  which  is  built  at  the  foot 
of  the  bluffs,  on  the  southern  side.  A  fort,  adapted  for 
times  of  peace  and  with  a  small  garrison,  overlooks  it. 
The  houses  are  mostly  of  wood,  scattered  along  ihe  shore, 
with  few  trees  and  fewer  gardens  interspersed.  The  ap- 
pearance of  the  place  is  nevertheless  very  picturesque,  with 
the  wooded  centre  of  the  island  rising  in  the  rear,  and  the 
precipitous  cliffs  of  gray  rock  flanking  it  on  both  sides. 
The  associations  of  two  centuries  linger  about  those  cliffs, 
and  the  names  of  Hennepin,  La  SaUe,  Marquette,  and  other 
pioneers  of  Western  civilization  make  them  classic  ground 
to  the  reader  of  American  history. 

We  remained  five  hours  in  order  to  take  on  some  coal, 
which  two  schooners  were  discharging  at  the  pier.  I  made 
use  of  the  time  to  stroll  over  the  island  and  visit  its  two 
lions— the  Sugar  Loaf  and  the  Arched  Rock.  The  road, 
after  we  had  passed  through  the  fort,  led  through  woodi 
of  budding  birch,  and  the  fragrant  arbor-vitse  (thuya  occi- 
dentalis),  which  turned  the  air  into  a  resinous  wine,  as 
grateful  to  the  lungs  as  Falernian  to  the  palate.  We 
passed  around  the  foot  of  the  central  hill,  three  hundred 
feet  high,  whereon  are  the  remains  of  the  old  fortifications. 
On  a  terrace  between  it  and  the  eastern  cliffs  stands  the 
Sugar  Loaf— a  pointed,  isolated  rock  seventy  feet  high. 
Tlie  rock,  which  appeared  to  be  secondaiy  limestone,  is 
honeycombed  by  th«  weather,  and  reminded  me  very 
strikingly  of  "Banner  Rock,"  in  the  interior  of  the  islsr^d 
of  Loo-Choo.    The  structure  is  precisely  similar,  and  the 


M^ 


234 


AT   HOMB  AND   ABROAD. 


I* 


height  very  nearly  the  same.  We  now  struck  across  the 
woods,  which  abounded  with  anemones  and  white  trilliums 
iu  blossom,  to  the  edge  of  the  cliflfs,  which  Ave  followed  for 
some  distance,  catching  occasional  glimpses  thrv)ugh  the 
thick  clumps  of  arbor  vitse  of  the  transparent  lake  below 
and  the  Northern  shore,  stretching  away  to  Sault  St. 
Marie  and  Lake  Superior.  The  forests  in  that  direction 
were  burning,  and  the  dense  volumes  of  white  smoke, 
carried  southward  by  the  wind,  blotted  out  the  Eastern 
horizon  for  a  space  of  thirty  or  forty  miles. 

The  Arched  Rock  stands  a  little  apart  from  the  line  of 
the  cliffs,  with  which  it  is  connected  by  a  narrow  ledge. 
It  is  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  formmg  a  rude  natural 
portal,  thx-ough  which  you  can  look  out  upon  the  lake. 
The  arch  is  ten  feet  thick,  and  in  the  centre  not  more  than 
eighteen  inches  wide.  I  climbed  out  lo  the  keystone,  but 
the  rock  was  so  loose  and  disintegrated  that  I  did  not 
venture  to  cross  the  remaining  portion.  On  our  return  to 
the  boat  I  visited  some  Chippewa  fjimilies,  who  were  en- 
camped upon  the  beach,  but  as  they  knew  neither  English 
nor  French,  the  conversation  was  limited.  The  water  of 
the  lake  is  clear  as  crystal  and  cold  as  ice,  and  I  had  an 
opportunity  to  verify  the  reports  of  its  marvellous  trans- 
parency. The  bottom  is  distuictly  visible  at  the  depth  of 
from  fifty  to  sixty  feet. 

"We  left  Mackinaw  towards  evening,  and  at  sunrise  next 
morning  were  abreast  of  the  Isle  of  Coves,  at  the  entrance 
of  the  Georgian  Bay.  The  islands  which  separate  the  Bay 
from  Lake  Huron  are  rather  low,  but  those  beyond,  lying 
nearer  the  Canada  shore,  rise  abruptly  from  the  water  in 


MACKINAW,    AND  THB   LAKES. 


235 


cliffs  of  red  rock,  crowned  with  forests  of  larch  and  pine. 
Alternately  advancing  and  retreating  behind  each  other  as 
we  passed  along  before  them,  they  presented  a  shifting 
diorama  of  the  wildest  forms.  The  sky  Avas  cloudless, 
softened  with  a  slight  haze,  and  the  air  so  cold  that  the 
water  used  in  wr  bing  the  decks  made  icicles  on  the 
guards.  Cabot's  Head,  the  north-eastern  point  of  the 
Canadian  promontory,  terminates  in  a  range  of  precipices 
two  hundred  feet  high,  back  of  which  the  unbroken  forest 
sweeps  away  into  a  wide,  rolling,  upland  region,  which  is 
said  to  be  an  admirable  wheat  country  wherever  it  has  been 
cleared.  After  passing  the  Head  we  lost  sight  of  the  coast, 
which  trends  southward  for  a  time  ;  but  our  attention  was 
called  to  the  steamer  Keystone  State  of  the  CoUingwood 
Line,  which  had  passed  us  at  Milwaukee,  but  which  we 
were  now  rapidly  overhauhng.  It  was  not  a  race,  for  the 
Queen  City  had  already  proved  herself  the  swiftest,  but  we 
were  not  unwilling  to  see  her  prove  it  again. 

As  the  Keystone  State  fell  intc  our  wake,  he  shore  east 
of  Owen's  Sound  came  int©  sight  on  the  right  hand,  and 
Christian's  Sound  on  our  left,  showing  that  we  r  "re  ap- 
proaching the  head  of  the  Bay.  The  distance  from  j  Isle 
of  Coves  to  CoUingwood  is  about  100  miles.  The  southern 
coast  was  still  bold  and  precipitous,  resembling  the  Hudson 
Palisades,  to  within  ten  miles  of  the  latter  place,  when  it 
gradually  sloped  down  to  a  low  country  overgrown  with 
the  densest  of  forests.  The  smokes  of  Spring  clearings 
were  burning  far  and  wide  on  the  hill-sides,  and  as  we 
turned  in  towards  CoUingwood,  the  very  sunshine  was  ob- 
scured by  them.    We  entered  the  harbor,  or  rather  road- 


m 


236 


AT  HOH£  AND   ABSOAD. 


Btead,  cautiously,  sounding  our  way  along  a  narrow  channel, 
which  has  been  marked  by  buoys,  between  two  shoals.  The 
town  of  CoUingwood,  which  now  contains  about  eighty 
houses,  is  only  a  year  old,  and  most  of  the  lots  are  still  in 
the  primitive  forest.  The  purchaser  may  build  his  shanty 
with  the  timber  he  cuts  off  to  make  room  for  it.  The 
streets  ai-e  full  of  stumps,  the  dwellings  are  of  fresh,  un- 
painted  clapboards,  and  there  is  not  yet  a  hotel  iu  the 
place.  The  Ontario,  Simcoe,  and  Huron  Railroad  Company 
have  built  out  a  pier,  with  a  large  storehouse  at  the  extre- 
mity, on  both  sides  of  which  steamers  can  be  moored  and 
tranship  their  passengers  and  freight  directly  into  the  cars. 
In  this  respect  the  arrangements  are  as  convenient  and 
expeditious  as  could  be  desired. 

We  found  a  train  for  Toronto  in  waiting,  and  as  the 
Keystone  State  arrived  soon  afterwards  with  her  load  of 
passengers,  the  cars  were  overcrowded  until  we  reached 
Barrie.  We  bade  good-bye  to  Capt.  Wilkins,  whom  we 
shall  long  remember  as  one  of  the  kindest  and  most  genial 
of  commanders,  passed  through  the  future  CoUingwood, 
and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  were  deep  in  the  heart  of 
the  forest.  The  trunks  of  the  trees  in  many  places  almost 
touched  each  other,  so  thick  was  the  gro^^  "^L,  and  those 
which  had  been  cut  away  to  make  room  for  the  road  were 
piled  up  on  either  hand  to  be  burned.  The  work  had  al- 
ready commenced  here  and  there:  the  huge  logs  were 
masses  of  live  coal  roaring  and  crackling  with  a  mighty 
sound,  while  sheets  of  bright-red  flame  eddied  among  the 
smaller  limbs,  and  clouds  of  smoke  swept  around  us,  pour- 
ing into  the  cars  in  stifling  volumes.    As  we  sped  on  at  the 


tm: 


MACKINAW,   AND  THB  LAKES.  237 

rate  of  thirty  milea  an  hour  through  these  avenues  of 
flame,  which  the  wind  occasionally  hurled  int.  our  very 
faces,  I  felt  ready  to  agree  with  a  rough  fellow,  who  said  in 
plain  Saxon,  "We're  going  to  Hell,  sure."  The  scene  was 
certainly  infernal  enough  to  justify  the  suspicion. 

After  passing  Barrie,  a  beautiful  town  on  Lake  Simcoe, 
we  entered  a  more  advanced  region.  Clearings  became 
abundant,  and  substantial  farmhouses  replaced  the  primi- 
tive  shanties.  The  season  changed  also ;  the  willows  were 
m  full  leaf,  the  elms  half-fledged,  and  the  maples  cast  an 
entire  shadow  The  country  was  rich,  undulating,  and 
beautiful,  becoming  more  thickly  settled  as  wg  advanced 
until  having  finished  our  ninety-four  mUes  in  three  hours 
and  a  half,  we  reached  Toronto. 


^  * 


XX. 


'Hi 


A  TELEGRAPHIC  TRIP  TO  NEWFOUNDLAND. 


[AUGUST,    1865.] 


'PI 


I 


I._Halifax  and  Port-aux-Basques. 

The  steamer  James  Adger,  chartered  by  the  New  York 
and  Ne'vfoundland  Telegraph  Company  for  the  purpose  of 
laying  the  submarine  cable  across  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence, 
left  New  York  on  the  7th  of  August.    In  addition  to  Peter 
Cooper,Cyrus  W.  Field,  and  Professor  Morse— the  managers 
of  the  enterprise-and  their  families,  a  large  number  of 
invited  guests,  several  of  whom  were  ladies,  accompanied 
the   expedition.     A  summer  voyage  to  regions  then   so 
little  known  presented  strong  attractions,   and  the   trip 
was  commenced  under  the  most  cheerful  and  agreeable 
auspices.     The  line  of  telegraph  from  New  York  to  St. 
Johns,  which  was  then  nearly  completed,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  submarine  portion,  was  the  precursor  of  the 
Transatlantic  Cable,  and  the  prospect  of  finally  carrying 


A   TELEGRAPHIC   TEIP   TO   NEWFOUNDLAND. 


239 


out  the  great  undertaking  gave  an  increased  interest  to 
this  initiatory  step. 

A  voyjige  of  three  days,  during  which  we  enjoyed  both 

extremes  of  sea-experience— a  calm  and  "  storm— brought 

us  to  IlaUfax.     As  Capt.  Turner  design      taking  on  board 

a  sui)ply  of  coal,  we  had  three  hours'  leave  of  absence  to 

visit  the  lions  of  the  place.     Our  appearance  created  but 

little  sensation.    Several  gentlemen  who  were  interested  in 

the  Company  came  down  to  greet  Mr.  Field,  and  a  few 

ragged  boys  in  search  of  employment  and  reward  grouped 

about  the  pier-posts ;  but  beyond  these  there  was  neither 

astonishment   nor   curiosity   concerning   us.     No    cry   of 

"  Carriage,  Sir  ?"  greeted  us  from  the  pier ;  no  hotel-runner 

thrust  greasy  cards  into  our  hands ;  no  loafing  idlers  were 

there  to  stare  at  us  or  openly  criticise  our  appearance ;  but 

we  landed  and  walked  up  into  the  town  without  attracting 

more  notice  than  so  many  of  its  own  quiet  denizens.     The 

general  imoression  was  that  Halifax  is  a  slow  place.     For 

my  part  I  found  this  Oriental  indiflference  quite  refreshing, 

and  was  not  disposed  to  complain  of  it.     It  is  pleasant  to 

find  that  there  are  communities  on  the  American  side  of 

our  globe  which  are  slow  to  become  excited. 

The  town  stretches  along  the  harbor  and  around  the 
foot  of  a  fortified  hill,  and  consists  mainly  of  two  long 
streets  crossed  by  a  number  of  steep  short  ones.  The 
houses  are  dingy  wooden  structures,  interspersed  with  an 
occasional  stone  or  brick  building,  or  a  plain,  dark-colored 
English  church  with  a  tall  spire.  My  companion,  who  was 
a  Briton,  insisted  that  we  had  not  yet  reached  the  principal 
part  of  the  town ;  but  after  passing  the  parade  ground  and 


240 


AT   UOMS  AND   ABROAD. 


■i  ?s 


the  Government  buildings — a  sqn.ire  pile  of  semi-Grecian 
architecture — he  was  forced  to  admit  that  we  had  seen  the 
best  it  had  to  offer.  We  engaged  a  one-horse  carriage — 
the  Halifax  boys  called  it  a  *'  conveyance  carriage,"  whence, 
I  suppose,  the  keeper  of  carriages  to  hire  is  a  couv^eyancer — 
and  ascended  to  Fort  George,  the  citadel.  Another  com- 
pany of  our  passengers  arrived  at  the  same  time  and  were 
boldly  entering,  when  they  wr-e  stopped  on  the  d-  iwbridge 
by  the  sentinel,  who  stated  thi.«  no  one  was  allowed  to  pass 
without  an  order  from  the  Quartermaster-General. 

A  soldier  off  duty  went  around  the  shoulder  of  the  hill 
to  point  out  the  office  of  that  functionary  to  two  of  us, 
who  undertook  to  procure  the  permission.    We  were  for- 
tunate enough  to  meet  the  Deputy-Quartermaster  at  the 
door.     On  making  known  our  desire,  he  at  once  wrote  an 
order  for  the  admittance  of  the  whole  party.    We  crossed 
the  drawbridge,  passed  through  a  heavy  stone  arch  tunnel- 
ling the  ramparts,  and  found  ourselves  in  a  spacious  in- 
cisure, where  two  companies  of  raw  recruits  for  the  siege 
of  Sebastopol  were  going  through  their  drill.    They  were 
mostly  Germans,  and  seemed  anything  but  easy  while  they 
stood  at  ease,  and  not  a  little   disordered  while    they 
ordered  arras.    The  raw  material  was  good  enough,  no 
doubt,  but  it  needed  a  great  amount  of  discipline  to  pro- 
duce from  it  the  soUd  English  files— the  bulwarks  of  battle. 
One  of  our  company,  who  was  a  clergyman,  took  occasion 
to  make  a  few  remarks  on  the  immorality  of  war  in  general, 
ana  .ae  Eastern  War  in  particular,  to  two  subalterns  who 
were  lounging  on  the  rampart  in  the  shade  of  a  sentry-box. 
But  I  fear  he  was  sowing  seed  on  stony  ground. 


A.  TELEGRAPHIC  TKIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAND.  241 

"We  mounted  to  the  parapet  and  made  the  circuit  of  the 
fortress,  looking  over  its  coping  on  a  beautiful  picture  of 
Nova-bcotian  scenery.    The  crescent-shaped  town  half  en- 
circled  the  hill,  its  extremities  stretching  back  towards  the 
country  in  Hues  of  suburban  ,illas.     The  harbor,  with  Mc- 
Nab's  Island  lying  across  its  mouth,  extended  bv.'ond  the 
town,  sending  a  blue  arm  several  miles  further,  where  it 
bent  out  of  sight  among  woody  hills.    Directly  opposite 
lay  Dartmouth,  a  small  town  of  white  wooden  houses,  with 
a  church  or  two,  and  a  background  of  dark  green  hills, 
partly  clothed  with  forests,  and  their  lower  slopes  dotted 
with  cottages  and  farm.-houses.    On  either  side  of  McNab's 
J  Island,  over  the  white  line  of  the  ever-foaming  breakers, 

^  was  an  azure  segment  of  ocean.     Turning  to  the  south 

and  west,  we  looked  inland  across  a  level  of  farm-land,  to 
ranges  of  dark  wooded  hills,  with  scarps  of  white  rock 
jutting  out  here  and  there  along  their  summits.  The  wind 
was  strong,  with  a  cool,  October  tang  in  it ;  the  dark  hills 
and  the  pale  sky  were  alike  suggestive  of  the  North ;  yet 
the  people  complained  of  the  heat,  and  imagined  themselves 
in  the  midst  of  summer ! 

Afler  dinner  a  small  party  of  us  went  ashore  to  employ 
the  remaining  hour  and  a  half  in  a  gallop  into  the  country, 
but  neither  saddle-horse  nor  carriage  was  to  be  had.  "  It 
is  the  first  fair  day  after  a  rain,'  said  the  conveyancers, 
"  and  everybody  is  a  riding  out."  Finally  we  found  a  man 
who  offered  us  the  identical  carriage  in  which  the  Admiral 
had  ridden  that  very  morning,  for  four  dollars;  but  on 
learning  that  we  were  Yankees,  and  did  not  consider  the 
Admiral's  seat  a  peculiar  honor,  he  reduced  bis  demand  to 

11 


242 


AT  HOMK  ASD  ABbOAD. 


■^ 


three  dollars.     We  had  a  pair  of  matched  grays  and  a 
ruddy,  red-whiskered  coauhinan,  and  whirled  out  around 
the  foot  of  the  citadel  iu  gallant  style.    A  good  macada- 
mized road  conducted  us  out  of  the  town,  where  wo  came 
at  once  upon  hay  and  grain  fields.    The  grass  had  just  been 
cut,  and  the  air  was  full  of  its  fragrance.    Wheat  and 
barley  were  in  head,  but  had  not  yet  begun  to  ripen.    A 
drive  of  two  milea,  partly  tin  ^ugh  thickets  and  patches  of 
fir  and  larch  trees,  brought  us  to  the  head  of  the  main  arm 
of  the  inner  harbor,  which  is  completely  landlocked.     Sur- 
rounded by  dark  green  hills,  with  net  a  vessel,  and  but 
two  or  three  houses  in  sight,  it  resembled  a  lonely  inland 
lake.    The  sight  of  the  clear,  green  waters  dancing  to  the 
shore  tempted  us  to  leave  the  Admiral's  carriage  and  take 
a  hasty  bath.     The  bottom  was  covered  with  a  growth  of 
brilliant  sea-weed,  whose  branching  streamers  of  purple 
and  emerald  reached  to  my  waist,  threatening  to  drag  mo 
down,  like  Hylas,  to  the  Nova-Scotian  naiads ;  but  no  water 
could  be  more  deUciously  cold  and  invigorating.     By  tliis 
time  it  was  six  o'clock,  and  the  cool  shadows  of  evenmg 
were  creeping  across  the  landscape.     The  grays  trotted 
merrily  back  alor     .he  shore-road,  and  we  reached  the  pier 
to  find  the  James  Adger  with  steam  up,  and  all  on  board 
except  the  gentleman  from  Truro. 

We  waited  half  an  hour  longer,  but  the  gentleman  from 
Truro  -rlid  not  come,  notwithstanding  an  express  had  been 
sent  eighteen  miles  into  the  country  to  meet  him.  Mr. 
Field  then  reluctantly  gave  the  order  to  leave.  As  the 
steamer  glided  out  of  the  dock,  the  passengers,  gathered 
on  the  quarter-deck  and  paddle-boxes,  gave  three  parting 


A  TELEGRAPHIC  TEIP  TO  NEWPOUXDLAND.  243 

cheers.    There  were  a  number  of  persons  on  the  pier,  who 
received  the   salut.  with   perfect  equanimity.     We  then 
gave  them  three  tunes  three,  and  succeeded  in  eliciting  two 
in  return.    An  old  fisherman  of  the  place  profited  by  our 
delay  in  disposing  of  two  baskets  of  "  murr's  eggs."   Tliese 
are  the  eggs  of  a  seafowl  on  the  coast  of  Labrador.    They 
are  about  the  size  of  a  turkey's  egg,  pomted  at  one  end, 
and  of  a  pale-blue  color,  curiously  spotted,  and  streaked 
with  black.     The  fisherman  informed  us  that  "the  gentry 
eats  'em,"  and  we  had  some  of  them  boUed,  but  after  testing 
the  odor  thereof,  none  of  us  had  courage  to  break  the  shell. 
I  kept  one  as  a  curiosity,  greatly  to  my  embarrassment.    I 
could  not  have  it  boiled,  for  they  crack  in  boiling;  I  could 
not  pack  it  away,  for  fear  of  smashing  it;  I  could  neither 
carry  it  about  with  me,  nor  leave  it  in  my  state-room  with- 
out great  risk,  but  was  constantly  troubled  by  it  untU  the 
last  day  of  the  voyage,  when  it  was  broken. 

While  in  Halifa-    .e  obtained  a  pilot  for  Newfoundland  • 
a  httle,  brown,  wiry,  wide-awake  fellow,  who  had  gathered 
coast-knowledge  in  many  a  tough  north-easter.    His  own 
apparent  self-reliance   inspired   confidence  in  us,  and  we 
sailed  for  the  Lancfof  Fogs  with  a  glow  of  cheerful  expec- 
tation.    It  was  dusk  before  we  emerged  from  the  harbor,  but 
the  long  northern  twilight  lingered  on  the  borders  of  the 
sky;  and,  as  night  deepened,  the  stars  shone  more  bric^htly 
than  they  ever  shone  before,  to  our  eyes.   The  planet  Jupiter 
cast  a  long  wake  upon  the  sea;  the  Milky  Way  burned  like 
a  lummous  cloud,  making  pale  the  lustre  of  the  neighboring 
stars;  while  scarcely  a  minute  elapsed  but  some  meteor 
shot  across  the  heavens,  leaving  a  lilvery  trail  behind  it. 


244 


AT   HOME   AND   ABIIOAD, 


There  seemed  not  one  vault  only,  but  deeps  beyond  deeps 
of  glory,  overspanning  each  other  until  the  eye  ceased  to 
follow  them.  The  meteors,  some  far,  swift,  and  faint,  some 
near  and  dazzling,  fell  from  the  inner  to  the  outer  circles 
of  the  heavens,  like  telegraphic  messages  between  the 
several  "spiritual  spheres."  Many  of  our  company  re- 
mained on  deck  tiU  nearly  midnight,  notwithstanding  the 
cold  northern  wind. 

All  the  next  forenoon  we  ran  along  the  dark  K'ova  Sco- 
tian  shores;  the  sea,  the  sky,  and  the  land  were  alike  cheer- 
less and  forbidding,  and  the  air  so  cold  that  we  felt  a  chill 
through  overcoats  and  thick  shawls.    The  coast  was  low 
and  undulating,  covered  with  fir  forests  which  looked  black 
under  the  clouds,  find  faced  \\'ith  rugged  ramparts  of  gray 
rock.    A  few  fishing  oraft  were  hovering  outsido  the  break- 
ers, ready  to  run  into  any  sheltered  cove  in  case  the  wind 
should  increase  to  a  gale,  as  it  threatened.    To  .ards  noon 
we  made  the  light  on  Cape  Causo,  and  shortly  afterwards 
crossed  the  mouth  of  the  Gat  of  Canso,  which  divides  Nova 
Scotia  from  Cape  Breton  Island.    The  coast  of  Cape  Breton 
is  from  six  to  eight  hundred  feet  high,  and  presents  a  bold 
front  to  +he  sea.    Its  ?\spect  is  peculia.  /  desolate  on  an 
overcast  day.    In  the  evening,  we  passed  Cape  Pleasant, 
not  more  than  six  miles  ftom  the  old  harbor  and  town  of 
Louisbourg,  so  famous  in  our  Colonial  history.    The  ruins 
of  the  ancient  French  fortifications  are  still  to  be  seen,  but 
the  trade  of  the  town  has  long  eince  been  transferred  to 
Halifax  and  Sydney,  and  it  is  now  almost  deserted.     It  is 
the  only  spot  in  the  north-east  which  is  prominent  in  our 
early  history,  and  must  still  be  a  very  interesting  old  place. 


A   TELEGRAruiC  TRIP   TO   KilWFOUNDLAND.  245 

At  midnight  we  entered  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence.  The 
sky  was  cloudless,  inconceivably  clear  and  radiant,  and  aa 
arch  of  white  auroral  fire  spanned  the  northern  horizon. 
It  was  so  brilliant  as  to  cast  a  glow  upon  the  water,  and  to 
make  the  segment  of  sky  inclosed  within  it  appear  black  by 
contrast.  It  steadily  briglitened  until  the  arch  broke,  when 
the  fragments  gathered  into  lustrous  balls,  or  nuclei,  which 
sent  long  streamers  ar  lancing  tongues  of  light  almost  to 
the  zenith.  Then  th.  .hole  pageant  faded  away,  to  be 
reborn  in  the  air,  and  brighten  as  !  ofore. 

The  expected  gale  did  not  come,  and  the  next  morning 
was  as  splendidly  clear  as  an  Arctic  midsummer.     We  sailed 
bet-.veen  two  he;:iispheres  of  blue,  fanned  by  a  wind  which 
was  a  tonic  to  both  soul  and  body.    The  only  vapor  which 
blurred  the  horizon  was  a  white,  filmy  band,  lying  over  the 
coast  of  Newfoundland,  dead  ahead.     I  saw  the  faint  blue 
loom  of  land  eariy  in  the  morning,  when  it  must  have  been 
between  thirty  and  forty  miles  distant,  but  the  outline  of 
♦he  coast  was  not  very  distinct  until  about  nine  o'clock. 
Immediately  after  breakfast  there  wore  religious  services  Li 
the  after  cabin-prayers  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Spring  and  Mr. 
Sherwood,  and  a  sermon  by  Mr.  Field.    .\.n  hour  or  more 
passed  in  the  performance  of  this  duty,   and  when  we 
ascended  to  the  deck  we  were  rapidly  nearing  the  long  Une 
of  bold,  barren  hUls.     Cape  Ray,  the  extreme  southwestern    , 
point  of  the  island,  was  on  our  left,  rising  from  the  sea  in  a 
lofty  conical  peak,  which  was  separated  by  a  broad  natural 
gap  from  the  mountain-wall,  1,200  feet  in  height,  which  rose 
iuland,  behind  the  southern  coast.    The  aspect  of  thi?  shore 
was  sublime  in  its  very  bleakness.    Not  a  tree  wa»  to  be 


246 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


ja 


Been,  and  the  gray  of  its  hoary  rocks  was  but  partially 
veiled  by  the  grass  and  stunted  shrubs  coaxed  into  life  by 
the  short  Summer  of  this  latitude. 

Our  pilot  headed  directly  for  Port-aux-Ba^ques,  our 
destination,  but  to  the  eye  the  coast  presented  a  long 
line  of  iron  rocks,  without  any  apparent  place  of  shelter. 
Even  after  we  had  made  out  the  straggling  huts  of  the 
fishermen,  along  the  brow  of  the  cliffs,  and  seen  their 
tanned  sails  creeping  outside  the  line  of  snow-white  surf, 
there  was  no  sign  of  a  harbor,  such  as  our  chart  indi- 
cated. Our  little  pilot,  however,  knew  the  ground,  and 
when  he  had  brought  us  within  half  a  mile  of  the  gray 
rocks,  we  saw  the  narrow  mouth  of  the  harbor  on  their 
right.  The  hue  of  the  water  showed  deep  soundings 
everywhere,  and  we  ran  securely  into  the  port,  which  was 
deserted,  except  by  a  fishing  boat  that  put  out  to  meet  us. 
The  bark  Sarah  L.  Bryant,  which  sailed  from  Liverpool 
on  the  3d  of  July  with  the  submarine  cable  on  board,  had 
not  arrived.  We  were  too  soon  for  our  errand,  and  the 
chiefs  of  the  company  immediately  decided  to  leave  for 
St.  Johns,  after  communicating  with  the  shore. 

I  seized  this  chance  of  putting  my  foot  on  Newfound- 
land soil.  We  jumped  into  a  rough  but  very  serviceable 
boat,  of  native  manufacture,  manned  by  two  oarsmen — 
stout,  lusty  fellows,  with  red  cheeks,  tanned  breasts,  and 
clear,  honest,  cheerful  eyes.  Half  way  to  the  shore  a  four- 
oared  boat  met  us,  with  Mr.  Canning,  the  engineer  of  the 
Mediterranean  Submarine  Telegraph,  on  board.  He  had 
cnmpi  from  England  especially  to  superintend  the  laying  of 
the  cable  to  Cape  Breton,  and  had  already  been  two  weeks 


A   TELEGRAPHIC  TEIP  TO   NEWFOITXDLAND. 


247 


• 


at  rort-aux-Basques.     He  was  quite  a  young  man,  but 
active  and  resolute  in  appearance. 

We  passed  behind  the  piles  of  gray,  weather-beaten 
rocks,  which  we  now  saw  formed  an  island,  called  Channel 
Head  by  the  boatmen.     The  water  was  full  of  floating 
kelp  of  great  size,  and  the  oars  and    rudder  frequently 
became  tangled  in  it.    In  tne  narrow  strait  between  the 
rocks  and  the  mainland  the  water  was  shallow,  showii^g 
a  rich  and  briUiant  vegetation.     The  rocky  bottom  was 
covered  with  sea-mosses   of  the  purest   emerald,  purple, 
dark-red,  and  amber  hues,  over  which  dragged  the  long 
orange  stens,  a-.d  thin,  glutinous  ruffles  of  the  kelp.     But 
now  we  approached  the  village,  whose  one-story  wooden 
houses  began  to  stud  the  bluflf,  grassy  knobs.     Further 
back,  on  higher  mounds,  were  groups  of  the  inhabitants, 
principally  women,  who  seemed  to  be  watchmg  us.     We 
sprang  ashore  on  some  rocks,  climbed  the  hUl,  despite  the 
fishy  odors  which  saluted  us,  and  were  in  the  village  of 
Fort-aux-Basques. 

It  was  one  of  the  queerest  places  in  the  world.  Fancy 
a  line  of  the  roughest  mounds  or  knobs,  formed  of  marshy 
soil  sprinkled  with  boulders  of  gneiss,  or  some  kindred 
rock,  and  flung  together  in  the  most  confused  and  irregular 
manner  possible.  Drop  a  square,  clapboarded,  veteran 
hut  here,  and  another  there,  with  a  studied  avoidance  of 
order;  stack  quantities  of  dried  codfish,  after  the  manner 
of  haycocks,  in  any  convenient  place ;  infuse  a  smell  of 
salted  fish  into  the  air  and  a  smell  of  cooked  fish  into  the 
huts;  add  a  few  handsome  dogs,  some  stalwart  specimens 
of  men,  and  children  each  of  whom  would  furnish  vit«^]ity 


m 


:  tl : 


I 


£48 


AT   HOMB  AND   ABUOAD. 


for  four  New  Yorkers — and  you  have  the  prominent  fea- 
tures of  the  phice.  Where  there  were  no  rocks  there  was 
swamp,  even  on  the  hill-tops ;  and  where  the  grass  and 
weeds  had  bridged  over  the  oozy  soil,  it  was  as  elastic  be- 
neath our  feet  as  a  floor  of  India-rubber.  The  vegetation 
was  that  of  Spring  and  Auiunui  combined ;  the  golden  ra- 
nunculus was  in  blossom  beside  the  aster  and  the  golden 
rod ;  the  delicate  blue  harebell  grew  beside  the  white  tlower- 
ing  elder  bush;  the  fragrant,  vernal  grasses  scented  the 
air  (in  places  distant  from  fish)  ;  and  the  azure  iris,  or  /leur- 
de-lis,  rose  in  thick  beds  between  the  rocks. 

The  village  contains  between  seventy  and  a  hundred 
houses,  wh'oh  are  scattered  along  the  knobs  for  a  distance 
of  three-quarters  of  a  mile.    These  knobs  are  separated  by 
ravuics,  two  of  which  are   crossed  by  wooden  bridges. 
There  are  footpaths  branching  in  all  directions,  but  I  saw 
nothing  like   a  regular  road.      Near  the   centre  of  the 
place,  at  the  head  of  the  sheltered  cove,  there  is  a  large 
two-story  building  for  the   storage  of  fish.    A  flagstaff 
behind  it  had  the  English  and  American  ensigns  hoisted 
together.    Hereabouts  the  stacks  of  dried  fish  were  very 
plentiful.    I  was  forcibly  reminded  of  the  description  of  the 
Norwegian  fish-market  at  Lofoden,  in  MUgge's  romance  of 
"  Afraja."    Some  of  the  houses  were  painted  white  or  dark- 
red,  but  the  greater  part  showed  the  dingy,  leaden  hue  of 
the  native  wood.    There  was  neitaer  tavern,  church,  nor 
store  to  be  seen,  but  we  were  told  that  various  articles 
might  be  bought  at  the  house  of  a  man  named  Waddell — 
which  house  was  distinguished  by  the  figure-head  of  the 
Prince    Charles,   lost   on   this   coast,   planted    beside    it. 


TEJLKGSAI'UIC  TKU'   TO   NEWFOUNDLAND. 


249 


There  is  also  service  on  Sundays,  occasionally;  but  the 
minister,  it  seems,  had  charge  of  several  similar  parishes, 
and  was  preaching  somewhere  m  the  wilderness.  This 
fact  might  have  explained  the  absence  of  the  inhabitants, 
who  had  gone  forth  for  a  holiday,  but  I  half  suspected  that 
they  had  retreated  at  our  approach,  out  of  shyness  (,••  fear. 
Many  of  them  have  never  seen  any  other  part  of  the  world. 
When  the  Telegrajihic  Company  sent  two  horses  there  the 
year  previous,  there  was  a  great  excitement  in  the  place. 
Horses  had  never  been  seen  before,  except  in  pictures. 
Those  which  were  left  to  winter  there  were  speedily 
slaughtered  and  eaten.  The  Ime  of  telegraph  poles,  how- 
ever, which  crosses  the  hills,  is  a  streak  o^  light  which  will 
soon  illuminate  this  benighted  corner  of  the  world. 

I  was  much  struck  with  th  j  free,  vigorous,  healthy  look 
of  the  inhabitants.  The  men  were  noble  examples  of 
physical  vigor.  The  women— except  one  old  dame — I  did 
not  see;  but  the  children  showed  the  soundness  of  the 
stock  from  which  they  sprang.  There  was  one  little  girl, 
with  a  cloud  of  auburn  curls  around  her  head,  whose  blue 
eye  and  tan-roseate  check  made  a  very  sunshine  in  the 
shaded  doorway  where  she  sat.  The  men  wore  not  only 
pre-eminently  healthy  and  vigorous,  but  they  had  honest, 
happy,  reliable  faces — faces  which  it  strengthens  you  to 
look  upon.  I  should  be  perfectly  willing  to  spend  a  month 
or  tv/o  among  them,  notwithstanding  their  rude  mode  of 
life,  and  their  complete  isolation. 

We  had  but  an  hour  allowed  us,  and  so  went  springing 
from  rock  to  rock,  or  bounding  over  the  elastic  marshes, 
inhaling  alternate  whiffs  of  fish  and  flowers,  until  we  had 

11* 


250 


AT   HOME    AND   AliBOAD. 


I 


made  a  rapd  tour  of  the  village.  Under  that  glorious  sky, 
and  in  the  breath  o\  that  bracing  air,  the  scenery  had  a 
singular  charm  for  me.  The  sea,  blue  as  the  Mediterranean, 
thrust  its  shining  arms  deep  among  the  hills,  which,  divided 
by  lagoons,  resembled  an  archipelago  of  green  islands. 
The  white  rocks  along  the  shore  hurled  back  a  whiter  wall 
of  snowy  breakers ;  and  westward,  beyond  the  peaked 
headland  of  Cape  Ray,  rose  the  blue  mountain-wall, 
streaked  with  the  gray  of  its  rocky  parapet.  Not  a  tree, 
not  even  a  large  shrub  was  in  sight ;  nothing  but  grass, 
flowers,  and  rocks.  The  bare  forms  of  the  landscape  har- 
monized with  its  monotony  of  color ;  it  was  sublimf?  in  its 
very  bleakness  and  simplicity.  It  resembled  nothing  I  liave 
seen  on  tho  American  Continent,  but  rather  the  naked, 
heathery  hills  of  the  western  coast  of  Scotland. 

In  two  hours  we  resumed  our  course,  standing  eastward 
along  the  coast,  whose  beautiful  stretch  of  swelling  hills 
turned  to  a  deep  violet  in  the  flush  of  sunset.  The  night 
was  cloudless,  sparkling  with  stars,  streaked  with  meteors, 
and  illumuiated  by  a  twilight  which  wheeled  slowly 
from  west  to  east,  imder  the  North  Star,  but  never  faded 
away.  In  the  morning  we  saw  the  uninhabited  islands  of 
Miquelon  and  Langley,  which  belong  to  France,  and  passed 
near  enough  to  the  fishing-stati-^n  of  St.  Pierre  to  discern 
the  lighthouse  at  the  entrance  of  the  little  harbor.  The 
neighboring  waters  were  dcited  with  the  red  or  tan- 
colored  sails  of  the  French  fishing  smacks.  The  town  of 
St.  Pierre  contains  but  about  1,500  inhabitants,  but  I  was 
informed  that  during  the  Summer  season  there  are  fre- 
quently 400  sail  in  the  harbor,  and  from  30,000  1     40,000 


A  TELEGRAPHIC  TEIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAND. 


251 


persons  in  the  streets.  We  should  probably  have  touched 
there  but  for  the  fact  that  the  French  government  exacts  a 
duty  of  three  francs  a  ton  on  all  foreign  shippmg  entering 
the  port.  St.  Pierre  is  to  be  made  a  naval  station,  and 
the  Government  designs  sending  large  numbers  of  re- 
cruits for  the  marine  to  be  educated  in  the  fishing  service. 
There  is  no  better  school  in  the  world  to  make  hardy 
sailors. 


XXI. 

A  TELEGRAPHIC  TRIP  TO  NE^'^FOUNDLAND. 

[AUGUST,    1886.] 


I 


n. — St.  Johns,  and  a  Waix  to  Topsail. 

I  WAS  lying  in  my  berth,  in  one  of  the  deck  state-rooms, 
on  Monday  morning,  when  a  sailor  came  up  to  the  open 
window  and  said :  "  You'd  better  get  up.  Sir ;  we  shall  be 
at  St.  Johns  in  an  hour."  I  took  his  advice  at  once,  hur- 
ried on  my  clothes,  and  got  on  dec^  in  time  to  see  us  pass 
Cape  Spear,  a  bare,  green  headland,  crowned  with  a  light- 
house, beyond  which  the  coast  trends  westward  for  several 
miles.  The  land  was  lofty,  presenting  a  bold  front  to  the 
sea,  and  the  entrance  to  St.  Johns  Harbor,  which  our  little 
pilot  pointed  out  to  me  in  front  of  us,  was  a  narrow  gap 
between  two  precipitous  hills  whose  bases  almost  touched. 
The  moruiug  was  rainy  and  overcast,  buL  not  foggy,  and 
the  approach  to  the  shore  was  so  secure  that  we  made 


I 


4 


A   TKLEGUAl'UIC   TRIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAND.  253 

directly  for  the  entrance,  which  we  had  almost  reached, 
when  a  four-oared  boat,  carrying  a  pilot,  put  off  to  meet 
us.  The  town  of  St.  Johns  already  began  to  a])pear 
through  the  gap  or  gorge,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were 
sailing  between  nearly  perpendicular  walls  of  dark  red 
sandstone,  which  rose  to  the  height  of  700  feet  ou  the 
southern,  and  520  feet  on  the  northern  side.  We  were 
hailed  from  a  small  lighthouse  and  battery  at  the  entrance. 
The  passage  is  not  more  than  three  or  four  hundred  yards 
wide. 

Signal  Hill,  on  the  north  side,  is  crowned  with  an  old 
battery  and  barracks,  now  converted  into  a  military  hospi- 
tal. There  is  also  a  water  battery  of  five  guns  at  its  foot, 
opposite  Chain  Rock,  so  called  from  the  fact  that  in  former 
times  a  heavy  iron  chain  was  stretched  from  this  rock 
across  the  channel,  to  prevent  the  passage  of  ships.  Be- 
yond this  point  we  entered  the  harbor,  which  curved 
around  South-side  Hill,  extending  inland  for  nearly  a  mile. 
It  has  plenty  of  water  everywhere,  with  excellent  holding 
ground,  and  is  completely  sheltered  by  the  high  hills  of  the 
coast.  The  town  is  built  on  the  western  side,  facino-  the 
entrance.  Its  old-fashioned  houses  of  brick  and  weather- 
beaten  wood  line  the  shore  for  the  distance  of  a  mile, 
climbing  the  steep  side  of  a  hill  which  is  crowned  by  the 
Roman  Catholic  Cathedral,  the  Colonial  Buildings,  the 
Government  House  and  two  small  fortifications.  Beyond 
it,  other  hills,  partly  cultivated,  and  dotted  with  small 
white  country-houses,  rise  inland.  A  crowd  of  schooners 
and  small  ?raft  lay  at  the  wharves,  and  fishing  boats  were 
moving  hither  and  thither  over  the  harbor.    All  around  the 


264 


AT   nOMB   AND   ABKOAD. 


shores,  wherever  space  cmlA  be  found,  were  the  flakes  of 
the  fishermen — ^I'gl  t  .vooclcu  platforms,  supported  by  poles, 
and  covered  .v'th  salted  codfish  in  all  stages  of  drying. 
These  picturesque  flakes,  not  unlike  the  grape  arbors  of 
Italy,  and  a  powerful  fishy  smdl  in  the  atmosphere,  pro- 
claim at  once  to  the  stranger  .lie  principal  business  of  St. 
Johns. 

We  moved  slowly  up  the  harbor  and  came  to  anchor  near 
its  western  extremity.    The  arrival  of  the  James  Adger 
produced  a  much  more  decided  sensation  than  at  Halifax. 
Notwithstanding  the  early  hour  there  was  a  crowd  gathered 
upon  the  wharf,  and  some  of  us  who  landed  for  a  stroll 
before  breakfast  were  stared  at  by  all  the  men  we  met  and 
followed  by  most  of  the  boys.    The  principal  business  street 
in  the  town  is  near  the  water,  running  along  the  western  side 
of  the  harbor.    The  houses  are  mostly  two-story  dwellings 
of  brick  or  stone,  with  heavy  slate  roofs,  and  more  remark- 
able for  solidity  than  beauty.    This  part  of  the  town  has 
all  been  rebuilt  since  the  great  conflagration  in  June,  1846, 
from  the  effects  of  which  St.  Johns  has  but  recently  reco- 
vered.   At  that  time  a  space  of  150  acres  was  burned  over, 
and  2,300  buildings  consumed.     Twelve  thousand  people 
were  made  homeless,   and  property  to  the   amount   of 
£1,000,000  destroyed.    Those  districts  which  escaped  still 
retain  the  dingy  old  wooden  houses  of  which  the  town  was 
originally  built.    The  population  of  St.  Johns  at  present  is 
estimated  at  20,000. 

In  the  course  of  the  morning  I  visited  all  of  the  principal 
sights  of  the  place,  under  the  guidance  of  Mr.  Wiuton,  edi- 
tor of  The  Public  Ledger.    The  most  prominent  building 


A   TELKGUAPHIO  TRIP  TO   NITW'POUXDLAND.  255 

i8  tho  Catholic  Cathedral,  which  had  just  been  completed. 
It  occupies  a  commanding  position  on  the  crest  of  the  hill, 
and  being  built  of  gray  stone,  with  tall  square  towers,  bears 
some  resemblance  to  the  Cathedral  of  Montreal,  which  it 
equals  in  dimensions.    The  interior,  however,  does  not  bear 
out  its  exterior  promise.    The  nave  is  low,  and  therefore 
does  not  produce  the  effect  which  might  be  expected  from 
its   length  and  breadth ;   the  architectural  ornaments  are 
tawdry  and  inharmonious.    The  palace  of  Bishop  Mullock 
stands  beside  the  Cathedral,  with  a  Uttle  garden  in  front. 
On  this  part  of  the  hill  is  an  earthwork  called  Fort  Frede- 
rick,  which  contained  but  a  small  garrison.     In  fact,  the 
entire  number  of  troops  stationed  at  St.  Johns,  including 
those  in  Fort  William,  Chain  Rock  Battery,  and  upon  Sig- 
nal Hill,  amounts  only  to  about  two  hundred  men,  who 
belong  to  what  is  called  the  Royal  Newfoundland  Company, 
and  are  not  transferred  to  other  stations.    I  never  saw'a 
more  healthy  and  vigorous  body     f  men.    There  are  in 
England  no  ruddier  faces,  no  cle^.  er  eyes,  no  more  sappy 
and  M  ell-conditioned  bodies.    I  looked  with  great  admira- 
tion at  one  of  the  sentries  on  duty  at  lort  William.    Tall 
straight  as  a  lance,  with  firmly  chiselled,  half-Grecian  fea- 
tures, a  thick,  soft  mustache  and  a  classical  chin,  he  had  a 
complexion  Uke  that  of  a  ripe  peach,  a  mellow,  ruddily 
golden  flush,  which  showed  the  noblest  pair  ting  of  air  and 
sunshine,  and  was  worthy  of  the  Titianic  pencil  of  Page. 

Capt.  Bowlin  courteously  conducted  us  over  Fort  Frede- 
rick, where  the  most  interesting  thmg  I  saw  was  the  library 
and  reading-ruom  of  the  soldiers— a  neat  little  apart- 
ment, containing  1,650  well-selected  volumes,  and  a  number 


256 


AT   UOM£   AND   AUROAD. 


of  newspapers  and  periodicals.  I  am  not  aware  that  so 
profitable  an  institution  as -this  has  ever  been  attached  to 
any  of  our  own  garrisons.  The  fortifications  are  all  small, 
and  seem  to  me  quite  insufficient  for  the  defence  of  so 
important  a  place.  The  GcA'crnment  House,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  built  on  a  scale  of  needless  magnificence,  having 
cost  £30,000,  on  an  estimate  of  £9,000.  It  is  a  long,  heavy- 
looking  mansion,  of  dark  gray  stone,  on  the  ridge  of  the 
hill,  and  surrounded  by  an  iuclosure  planted  with  trees, 
which  appear  to  grow  very  slowly  on  the  thin  soil.  Ip  the 
outskirts  of  the  town,  towards  the  north  and  west,  there  are 
several  neat  private  residences  with  gardens  attached, 
■where  the  more  hardy  varieties  of  fruit  ripen,  .  1  even 
ai  )le3,  with  proper  protection,  are  made  to  bear;  but 
strawberries  (which  were  just  disappearing)  gooseberries, 
currants,  and  cherries,  are  the  only  certain  fruits. 

The  Colonial  Building,  with  its  Grecian  portico,  stands 
near  the  Government  House.  The  Council  C^  mbers  were 
closed,  but  I  saw  the  Library,  and  the  nucleus  of  a  museum 
of  the  natural  history  of  Newfoundland,  which  promises 
to  be  valuable.  There  were  seals  of  all  sizes  and  ages, 
wolves,  foxes,  partridges,  grouse,  hawks,  owls,  the  heads 
and  horns  of  the  cariboo  or  reindeer,  beaver,  otter,  hares, 
and  various  other  animals,  some  of  which  seem  to  be  pecu- 
liar to  the  island.  The  cariboo  is  said  to  be  almost  identi- 
cal with  the  Lapp  reindeer,  whence  some  have  conjectured 
that  it  was  first  introduced  by  the  Norsemen,  who,  it  is 
well  known,  first  discovered  Newfoundland,  which  they 
named  IMhdand,  or  "  The  Land  of  broad,  flat  stones." 
In  the  hall  of  the  building  there  is  a  vacant  niche,  which 


A  TKLBGRAPHIC  TRn»  TO  NEWFOrNDLAND. 

ought  to  be  filled  with  f  statue  of  the  gallant  old  Admiral, 
Sir  Humphrf-  Gilbfc  ^  who  in  the  year  1583  founded  St. 
Johns. 

Tlie  Episcopal  Cc  ..edral  stands  on  the  slc^ie  of  the  hiu, 
below  its  Catho'it    ival.    Only  the  chancel  has  been  erected, 
which  is  of  dark  stone,  of  a  pla*    but  pleasing  form  of  the 
Gothic  style.     From  its  imposing  dimensions,  the  building, 
when  completed,  will  surpass  the  Catholic  Cathedral  in  size, 
as  the  latter  surpasses  it  in  position.    The  aui-nosity  be- 
tween the  two  sects  is  very  bitter,  and  since  an  independent 
Colonial  Government  has  been  given  to  Newfoundland,  it 
enters  into  politics,  and  is  the  source  of  endless  bickerings. 
There  are  several  other  Protestant  churches,  the  principal 
of  which  is  the  Congregational  Church,  but  none  of  them 
add  much  to  the  beauty  of  the  place.    In  fact,  Nature  baa 
done  nearly  everything  for  St.  Johns.     Spread  along  the 
slope  of  a  long  hill,  almost  every  house  commands  a  view  of 
the  beautiful  harbor,  the  grand  gateway  between  Signal  and 
South-side  Hills,  and  an  arc  of  blue  ocean  beyond ;  while, 
looking  inland,  picturesque  hills,  black  fir-woods,  yellow 
haT-'aelds,  cottages,  and  the  white  ribands  of  odrairable 
roads,  branching  ofi"  in  various  directions,  form  landsca^  ^s 
of  very  different  character,  but  equally  as  attractive.    The 
air  is  always  pme  and  exhilarating,  and  though  there  is 
much  ram  during  the  Winter  and  Spring  monihs,  fogs  are 
quite  rare.     The  thick  mist-curtains  which  enshroud  the 
great  fishing-banks  roll  up,  day  after  day,  to  within  a  mile 
or  two  of  the  shore,  and  there  tower,  like  immense  walls, 
leaving  all  within  them  in    loar  sunshine.    The  harbor  of 
St.  Johns  is  much  less  subject  to  fog  than  that  of  Halifax. 


n 


,.1 


258 


AT    HOME    AND   ARROAD. 


In  calling  Newfouiullaiul  the  Land  oi  Fogs,  we  have  made 
the  mistake  of  applying  to  the  island  the  clli  lato  and  at- 
mosphere of  the  Grand  Bank,  from  which  it  is  separated  by 
a  belt  of  deep  water  from  forty  to  sixty  miles  in  breadth. 
The  morning  of  our  arrival  was  rainy,  but  about  noon 
the  M'ind  came  out  of  the  south-west,  rolling  the  masses  of 
cloud  before  it,  and  leaving  spaces  of  blue  sky  in  their 
place.  As  the  time  of  our  stay  was  uncertain,  and  I  was 
anxious  to  see  something  of  the  country,  I  acceded  to  a 
proposal  of  Mr.  Winton,  that  we  should  walk  out  in  the 
afternoon  to  a  farm  belonging  to  his  mother,  near  Topsail, 
on  Conception  Bay,  eleven  miles  distant,  and  thery  spend 
the  night.  Mr.  CBrien  and  Mr.  Middlebrook  joined  me, 
n,nd  we  started  at  once.  Following  the  main  street  in  a 
south-western  direction,  past  the  head  of  the  harbor,  Ave 
Si^on  emerged  into  a  fine  macadamized  road,  which  left  the 
valley  and  gradually  ascended  over  the  undulating  slopes 
of  the  hills.  For  some  distance  it  was  lined  with  suburban 
cottages,  surrounded  with  potato- patches,  gooscborry- 
bushes,  or  clumps  of  fir  and  spruce  treC;  which  sometimes 
attain  a  height  of  thirty  feet.  The  largest  trunk  I  saw 
was  about  eighteen  inches  in  diameter.  To  these  followed 
fields  of  thick  grass,  sometimes  brown  and  s'.orn,  some- 
times striped  with  fragrant  swathes  or  dotted  with  rounded 
haycocks.  There  were  also  some  fields  of  oats  and  barley, 
which  wore  still  quite  green,  one  only  coming  into  head. 
"We  met  a  f-^w  rough  country  carts,  driven  by  hardy,  sun- 
burned men  or  boys,  going  to  St.  Johns,  but  neither  horse- 
men rior  pleasure-carriages,  nv.r  pedestrians,  except  unmis- 
takable laborers.    It  was  evidently  a  land  of  work. 


iiU 


^J 


■iiiiB 


Mm 


A  TELEGRAPHIC  TRIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAKD.  259 

After  travelling  fbiir  or  five  miles  at  a  pace  which  wo  id 
have  beer  fatiguing  but  for  the  constant  exhilaration  of  the 
south-west  breeze  that  blew  in  our  faces,  we  reached  a  wild, 
rolling  upland,  where  the  signs  of  cultivation  became  more 
scarce,  and  from  the  character  of  the  wild  land  I  could  per- 
ceive how  much  labor  and  expense  are  requisite  to  fit  it  for 
cultivation.     The  timber  is  short,  but  exceedingly  hard  and 
tough,  and  after  the  trees  are  cut  and  the  stumps  grubbed  up, 
the  soil  is  covered  with  loose  stones,  which  must  be  picked  off 
over  and  over  again  before  there  is  a  suflicient  foothold  for 
grain  or  potatoes.     In  spite  of  all  this,  and  the  fact  that  the 
soil  is  but  a  thin  layer  upon  a  basis  of  solid  rock,  which 
continually  crops  out  througii  it,  the  yield  of  hay  is  re- 
markably good,  and  potatoes,  when  they  escape  the  rot, 
produce  very  well.     The  price  of  cleared  land  varies  from 
£5  to  £15   per  acre,  according  to  quality  and  location. 
Farming,  in  this  part  of  the  island,  can  scarcely  be  remu- 
nerative,  except  at  a  crisis  like  the  present,  when  all  the 
necessaries  of  life  are  very  dear. 

The  scenery  through  which  our  road  lay  reminded  me 
continually  of  the  western  coast  of  Scotland.  It  certainly 
bore  no  resemblance  to  any  part  of  the  American  continent 
which  I  have  visited.  High,  bald  ranges  of  hills,  following 
the  line  of  the  coast,  stretched  away  southwards,  where 
they  blended  with  the  rolling  inland,  covered  with  dark 
woods  of  spruce,  fir,  and  larch.  From  every  ridge  we  over- 
looked  stern  tracts  of  wilderness,  which  embosomed  lakes 
of  cold,  fresh  water,  bluer  than  sapphire.  Occasionally, 
streams  whose  tint  of  golden  brown  betrayed  the  roots  ana 
trunks  through  which  they  had  filtered,  brawled  over  their 


•260 


AT  HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


ti^ 


rocky  beds.  A  few  cattle  and  sheep  grazing  along  the  edge 
of  the  woods  gave  a  pastoral  air  to  this  region,  which 
would  otherwise  have  been  desolate  in  its  ruggedness  and 
loneliness. 

Wo  stopped  a  few  minutes  at  a  wayside  tavern,  where, 
in  a  room  with  sanded  floor  and  colored  prints  on  the  walls, 
we  were  served  with  spruce  beer,  bitter  with  the  resinous 
extract  of  the  tree.  We  had  walked  eight  miles,  and  were 
now  upon  the  dividing  ridge  between  the  Atlantic  and 
Conception  Bay,  a  deep  sheet  of  water  which  reaches  to 
within  three  miles  of  Placentia  Bay,  on  the  southern  side 
of  the  island,  and  almost  insulates  the  promontory  on  which 
St.  Johns  is  built.  Two  hills  opened  like  a  gateway,  and 
between  them  spread  the  blue  waters  of  the  bay,  with  its 
dim  further  shore,  and  the  long,  undulating  hills  of  Bell 
Isle  basking  in  the  soft  light  of  the  afternoon  sun.  The 
road,  whioii  was  as  hard  and  smooth  as  an  English  highway, 
led  downwards  to  the  shore,  revealing  with  every  step  a 
wider  stretch  of  bay,  over  which  towered,  on  the  right,  the 
pale  red  and  gray  rocks  of  Topsail  Head,  rising  to  a  height 
of  seven  or  eight  hundred  feet.  In  a  little  glen,  the  bottom 
of  which,  by  careful  clearing  and  draining,  had  been  turned 
into  a  smooth  field  of  thick,  mossy  turf,  we  found  the  neat 
white  cottage  which  was  to  be  our  resting-place  for  the 
night.  A  rapid  stream  foamed  beside  it,  and  hills  of  fir 
inclosed  it  on  all  sides,  except  the  north,  which  was  open 
to  the  bay.  Tho  mistress  of  the  house  >vas  absent,  but  we 
found  a  man  and  maid-servant,  who  conducted  the  afiairs 
of  the  household  m  her  stead. 

As  there  were  still  two  or  three  hours  of  daylight,  we 


A  TELKGRAPniC  TRIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAND. 


261 


! 


walked  on  to  the  viUage  of  Topsail,  and  followed  the  road 
along  the  shore  to  a  place  called   Chamberlain's  Point. 
The  views  across  the  bay,  and  south-westward  towards  itr- 
head,  were  very  beautiful.    Bell  Me  lay  stretched  out  before 
us  in  its  whole  length,  with  the  picturesque  little  fishhig 
village  of  Lance  Cove  opposite  to  us.    Little  Bell  Isle  and 
Kelly's  Isle  were  further  south,  and  beyond  them  the  shore 
was  no  longer  bold  and  bluff,  but  sank  into  gentle  hills. 
The  road  was  lined  with  the  wooden  huts  of  the  fishermen, 
with  here  and  there  the  more  ambitious  summer  cottage 
of  a  St.  John's  merchant,  buried  in  a  sheltering  grove  of  fir- 
trees.    The  scenery  became  less  bleak  and  rugged  as  we 
advanced,  and  I  regretted  that  I  had  not  time  to  follow  the 
road  to  Holyrood,  eighteen  miles  further,  at  the  head  of 
thvT  bay. 

We  returned  to  the  cottage  under  a  sunset  sky  as  clear 
and  cold  as  it  is  possible  for  a  sky  to  appear.     The  fire  of 
dried  boughs  in   the  capacious  chimney-place  was  very 
comfortable  in  the  evening,  and  in  spite  of  a  brilliant  white 
auroral  arch  and  shooting  lances  of  golden  flame  in  the 
northern  dky,  we  preferred  remaining  in-doors,  lounging  on 
the  benches  in  the  chimney  corner,  smoking,  and  Ustening 
to  tales  of  cod-fishing,  and  wolf  or  bear  hunting,  told  b\ 
the  shrewd,  -turdy,  serving-man,  William  of  Dorsetshire. 
William  was  fan^^er,  hunter,  and  sailor,  all  in  one,  and  his 
originally  frank  and  honest  nature  had  ripened  vigorously 
in  the       jrcise  of  the  three  mamiest  occupations  in  the 
world.     Ilis  blunt,  expressive  language  and  rouyh  expe- 
riences of  the  Newfoundland  shores  and  forests  had  a  rtal 
cham  for  me,  and  the  early  bedtime  of  the  countrj  came  * 


I 


i 


262 


AT   UOME   AND   ABROAD. 


\t! 


on  apace.  I  enjoyed  a  sound  sleep  after  the  day's  tramp, 
and  awoke  with  the  first  blush  of  a  mornhig  as  frostily  cool 
as  our  October.  We  had  hired  a  horse  and  light  wagon 
from  Mr.  Daly,  who  kept  a  store  and  tavern  for  the  fishermen 
at  Topsail ;  Mr.  Whiton  added  his  own  wagon  and  gray 
pony,  and  two  hours'  drive  over  the  hills,  in  the  cloudless 
sunshine  and  elastic  air,  brought  us  back  to  St.  Johns. 

We  found  our  fellow  passengers  preparing  for  an  excur- 
sion to  Portugal  Cove,  on  Conception  Bay.    The  hospita- 
lity of  St.  Johns  was  already  exerting  itself  to  find  means 
for  our  diversion,  and  every  available  private  carriage  in  the 
town  (where  there  is  not  a  single  hack  to  be  hired)  had 
been  secured.     Before  one  o'clock  all  our  passengers  and 
twenty  or  thirty  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  place  were  on 
the  road.     We  passed  the  Cathedral  and    Government 
House,  catching,  from  the  other  side  of  the  hill,  a  glimpse 
of  Quidi  Vidi  Lake,  a  picturesque  sheet  of  water  which 
lios  behind  Signal  Hill,  and  slowly  climbed  to  the  rolling, 
wooded  uplands  of  the  interior.    To  the  north  extended  a 
shallow  basin,  containing  1,700  acres  of  dwurf  spruce  for- 
est, beyond  which  arose  the  blue  headlands  of  the  coast, 
Avith  slips  of  the  ocean  horizon  between.    All  this  tract 
might  be  cleared  and  cultivated,  but,  much  of  it  would 
require  drainage,  and  the  expense  of  preparing  it  for  grain 
would  hardly  repay  the  scjmty  and  uncertain  yield.     All 
this  region  is  remarkably  well  watered :  in  fact,  the  same 
remark  applies  to  the  whole  island,  and  it  is  estimated  that 
one-fourth  of  its  surface  consists  of  lakes  and  ponds.     Wo 
passed  several  beautiful  lakes,  s-  -nning  with  trout,  and 
'  gleaming  cold  and   blue  in  the  sunshine.     Twenty-mile 


^Hm 


A   TBLEGKAPHIC   TRIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAND. 


263 


Pond,  a  picturesque  sheet  of  water,  is  six  or  seven  miles  in 
leugth,  and  contains  several  islands.  There  were  a  few  cot- 
tages and  hay-fields  along  the  road,  and  I  saw  some  stacks 
of  peat,  which  must  have  been  cut  more  from  custom  and 
tradition  than  necessity,  for  wood  is  abundant. 

After  skirting  the  shores  of  Twenty-mile  Pond,  the  road 
crossed  another  ridge,  and  descended  rapidly  towards  Con- 
ception  Bay,  which,  as  on  the  Topsail  Road,  opened  finely 
between  two  lofty  headlands,  with  the  northern  half  of 
Bell  Isle  before  us,  and  the  line  of  the  opposite  shore 
stretching  away  dimly  to  its  extremity.    The  bight  below 
us,  inclosed  by  the  headlands,  was  Portugal  Cove;  and  the 
huts  of  the  fishermen,  sprmkled  over  the  rocks,  formed  a 
crescent  a  mile  in  length,  in  the  middle  of  which  a  stream 
from  the  lake  above  fell  in  sparkling  cascades  into  the  bay. 
Flakes  covered  with  odoriferou  -  codfish  arose  like  terraces 
from  the  shore,  where  the  boats  of  the  fishermen  were 
moored,  whUe  others,  with  their  lines  out,  dotted  the  sur- 
face  of  the  water.     There  was  a  wUd  and  picturesque  beauty 
in  the  place,  which  made  us  forget  its  fishy  atmosphere. 
Some  of  the  party  stroUed  around  the  cove ;  others  climbed 
rocks  for  a  wider  lookout ;  others  read  the  epitaphs  in  an 
ancient  graveyard ;  but  after  an  hour  or  two  all  were  will- 
ing  to  return  to  the  village  tavern,  where  our  hosts  had 
provided  an  admirable  lunch.     We  returned  to  St.  Johns 
early  in  the  afternoon  on  account  of  the  dinner  to  be  given 
on  board  the  steamer  ia  the  evening. 


iii'i! 


i^K 


XXII. 


A  TELEGRAPHIC  TRIP  TO  NEWFOUNDLAND. 


[AUGUST,   1866.] 


III. — St.  Johns — Excursions  and  Festivities. 

I  arose  on  the  following  morning  at  five  o'clock,  and 
accompanied  Mr.  Field  on  a  trip  to  Logie  Pay,  a  cove  in 
the  coast  about  six  miles  north  of  St.  Johns.  We  had  a 
light  open  wagon,  an  Irish  driver,  and  an  old  stager  of  a 
horse,  which  took  us  over  the  ground  in  a  few  minutes  less 
than  an  hour.  The  road  passed  through  a  portion  of  the 
stunted  fir-woods  which  we  had  skirted  on  the  way  to  Por- 
tugal Cove,  and  then  turned  eastward  towards  the  coast, 
approaching  a  lofty  headland  of  red  sandstone  rock,  Avhich 
is  a  prominent  feature  in  the  view  northward  from  St. 
Johns.  The  rolling  upland  gradually  sloped  into  a  narrow 
valley,  with  a  stream  at  the  bottom.  Following  this,  we 
descended  to  a  cluster  of  fishing  huts  at  the  head  of  a  rocky 


A   TELEGKATUIC  TKIP  TO   NKWFOtJNIiLAND. 


265 


cove,  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  breadth,  between  the 
two  headlands.  '  The  shore  was  everywhere  perpendicular, 
or  nearly  so,  and  the  huts  were  perched  upon  the  brink  of 
cliffs  seventy  or  eighty  feet  high,  at  the  bottom  of  which 
the  sea  rolled  in  and  broke  in  volumes  of  spray.  A  steep  foot- 
path descended  between  the  flakes  of  the  fishermen  to  a  gap 
or  split  in  the  rocks,  across  which  was  built  the  boat-house, 
a  light  timber  framework  high  above  the  water,  and  provided 
with  falls  for  hauling  up  the  boats  in  rough  weather. 

An  old  fisherman,  who  appeared  to  be  the  only  male  at 
home,  the  other  inhabitants  having  gone  off  before  daylight 
to  their  fishing  labors,  accompanied  us  to  the  boat-house, 
and  pointed  out  the  spot  where  a  part  of  it  had  been  car- 
ried away  by  the  fall  of  an  overhanging  mass  of  roc^^ .  We 
walked  along  an  elastic  platform,  made  by  poles  fastened 
together,  to  the  end,  whence  there  was  a  magnificent  view 
of  the  cove,  with  its  walls  of  dark-red  sandstone,  frinfred 
with  moving  lines  of  foam,  and  its  grand  buttress  of  Red 
Head,  as  the  promontory  is  called,  rising  almost  perpendi- 
cularly to  the  height  of  780  feet.  A  few  fisliing  craft  dot- 
ted the  gray  surface  of  the  sea,  over  which  the  mist  hun^ 
low  in  the  distance. 

The  fishermen's  wives  were  employed  in  spreading  out 
upon  the  flakes  the  fish  which  had  been  stacked  together 
during  the  night,  with  the  skins  uppermost  to  protect  them 
from  moisture.  They  informed  us  that  the  season  was 
unusually  good,  but  as  the  price  of  fish  was  low  they  would 
gain  but  little  by  their  abundance.  Last  year,  they  said, 
fish  had  sold  at  fifteen  and  sixteen  shillings  the  quintal  (120 
lbs.)  but  this  year  the  price  had  gone  down  to  twelve  and 

12 


"; 


f- 


266 


AT   HOME  AND  ABROAD. 


thirteen  shillings.    The  value,  let  me  here  explain,  is  not  so 
much  regulated  by  the  demand  in  foreign  markets  as  by  the 
Avill  of  the  merchants  of  St.  Johns,  who  not  only  fix  the 
price  of  the  fish  they  buy  but  of  the  goods  they  sell  to  the 
fishermen.    They  thus  gain  in  both  ways,  and  fatten  rapidly 
on  the  toils  and  hardships  of  the  most  honest  and  simple- 
hearted  race  in  the  world.     It  is  their  policy  to  keep  the 
fishermen  always  in  debt  to  them,  and  the  produce  of  the 
fishing  season  is  often  mortgaged  to  them  in  advance.     It 
is  an  actual  fact  that  these  poor  fishermen  are  obliged  to 
pay  for  their  flour,  groceries,  and  provisions  from  50  to 
100  per  cent  more  than  the  rich  and  independent  residents 
of  St.  Johns.    It  is  no  wonder  therefore  that  the  merchants 
amass  large,  fortunes  in  the  course  of  eight  or  ten  years, 
while  their  virtual  serfs  remain  as  poor  and  as  ignorant  as 
their  fathers  before  them.     These  things  were  mentioned 
to  me  by  more  than  one  of  the  intelligent  citizens  of  St. 
Johns,  and  confirmed  by  all  of  the  fishermen  with  whom  I 
conversed  on  the  subject.     Several  of  the  latter  said  to  me, 
"  Ah,  Sir,  if  your  people  had  the  management  of  things 
here  it  would  be  bett-    for  us."     This  monopolizing  spirit 
of  gain  is  the  curse,  not  only  of  St.  Johns,  but  of  all  New- 
foundland.    It  is  the  spirit  which  resists  all  progress,  all 
improvements  for  the  general  good  which  seem  to  threaten 
the  overthrow  of  its  unjust  advanta-es— which  has  made 
Newfoundland  at  the  present  day,  three  hundred  and  fifty 
years  after  its  discovery  by  Sebastian  Cabot,  an  almost 
unknown  wilderness,  and  which  would  fain  preserve  it  as  a 
wilderness,  in  order  that  no  other  branch  of  industry  may 
be  developed  but  that  upon  which  it  preys. 


A   TKLEGRAPIIIC  TRIP  TO   NEWTOUNDLAND.  267 

The  fishermen  in  some   cases  deliver  their  fish  to  the 
merchants,  cured;  in  others,  the  latter  purchase  the  yield 
as  it  comes  from  the  boats,  and  have  the  drying  done  upon 
their  own  flakes.    The  livers  are  usually  sold  separately  to 
those  merchants  who  carry  on  the  manufacture  of  oil.    The 
dried  cod,  after  having  been  assorted,  are  stored  in  ware- 
houses,  ready   to   be   shipped   to   foreign   markets.     Tlie 
greatest   demand   is   from   Spain,   Cuba,   and  the   West 
Indies  generally.     The  whole  town  is  pervaded  by  the 
peculiar  odor  of  the  fish,  which  even  clings  to  the  gar- 
ments   of  those   who    deal   in   them.     This    odor,    very 
unpleasant  at  first,  becomes  agreeable  by  familiarity,  and 
finally  the   nostrils  cease   to   take  cognizance  of  it.     St. 
Johns  is  decidedly  the  most  ancient  and  fish-like  town  in 
North  America.    I  saw  a  man  in  the  street  one  day  whose 
appearance  and  expression  were  precisely  that  of  a  dried 
codfish. 

We   returned  homewards  from   Logic  Bay  by  way  of 
Virginia  Waiter,  the  residence  of  Mr.  Emerson,  Solicitor- 
General.    This  is  one   of  the  most  charmingly  secluded 
hermitages    which   it   is   possible   to    imagine.     We  first 
turned  into  a  stony  lane,  leading  through  the  midst  of  a 
young  forest   of  fir  and   spruce   trees.     As  the  lane  de- 
scended  the  trees  became  taller  and  more  dense,  until  we 
arrived  at  a  cottage-lodge,  shaded  by  a  willow,  on  the  edge 
of  a  beautiful  lake,  entirely   encompassed  by  the   dadc 
woods.    Passing  this  lodge,  we  foimd  ourselves  on  a  grassy 
peninsula,  twenty  yards  in  width,  between  what  appeared 
to  be  two  lakes,  but  were  in  reality  the  two  ends  of  one, 
which  curves  itself  into  a  nearly  perfect  circle,  three  mUes 


i 


AT   IIOMK   AWn    AnUOAP. 


in  oxtiut.     A  pato  nt  th«  on.l  of  Ww  iHthmus  uHlimMl  im 
it.t.)  the  woods  a^min,  bolwooii  tm>s  thirty  or  forty  loot 
l»ijrl»,  niul  HO  douHo  n«  to  1.0  nhuoHt  imponotnibU-.     Out  of 
the  (lurk  uvcmie  wo  oamo  ut  last  upon  an  oi..'m  lawn  of 
nbout  two  aoros,  Hlopinjr  fn.n.  IMr.  Kniorson's  ootta^o  to 
tho  hiko.     Tho  oottajio  had  a  voran.la  in  front,  conipU'toly 
ovorrnn  with  h,>p-vincH  and  tho  fraj?rant  woodbine,  and 
the  edges  of  tho  wall  of  fir  frees  behind  it  were  brilliant 
with  tho  blossoms  of  ft  variety  of  hardy  garden-ilowers. 
The  lawn  slope.l  to  tho  sonth,  lookinj;  aoross  the  lake  to 
tbe  woods  beyond,  whose  dark-f-reon  tops  heinnu'd  in  tho 
sky.     The  ki>en  north-west  wind  which  rippled  tho  water 
was  nnfelt  aronnd  the  eottajjo,  so  completely  was  it  shol- 
tered  by  its  fn*  jialisades. 

Mr.  KnuTs.>n  and  his  danphtera  received  us  cordially, 
and  otVered  ns  sonu«  delieioua  coffee,  which  our  Ions?  ride  in 
the  cool  mornini:  air  made  very  acceptable.     I  rei,'retted 
that  time  wonld  not  alK>w  ua  to  explore  the  wild  woo.l- 
j)atha  over  the  island  on  which  his  house  is  built,  and  that 
the  carriage-road  along   the  l>order8  of  the  lake  Avas  so 
much  out  of  repair  that  we  coul.l  n«^t  pass  over  it.    Tho 
lake  swarms  with  trout,  and  as  ^!r.  Emerson  is  f..rtunato 
enough   to  possess  the  whole  of  it,  ho  has  at  hand  an 
ludin'ited  supply  of  this  i>rince  of  fish.    The  cottage  was 
originally  built  by  a  former  Governor  of  the  island.     Were 
it  hi  the  vi.'inity  of  New  York  or  London,  the  property 
would  be  beyond  all  price ;  but  when  I  looked  up  at  the 
cold   sky   overhead,    and    remembered   the   brief,   barren 
Summer  of  Newfoundland,  I  felt  that  I  should  prefer  a 
simple  tent  beneath  the  Oriental  palms. 


K  TKLICUIlArmc  imp  to  nkwkounoland. 


209 


In  tlio  aa<'inoofi  I  walked  out  to  Signal  Hill,  the  peak 
of  whieli  I  have  already  Hpoken,  foniiing  the  northern  hkIo 
of  tho  gateway  to  the  harbor.     It  Ih  a  mtm  of  old  rvd 
HandHtone,  rising  620  feot  above  tho  uea.     The  uuriiuiit  in 
devoted  entirely  to  military  pnrposeH,    There  was  formerly  a 
battery,  which,  being  of  little  use,  has  been  abandoned  ;  alHo 
a  hospital,  whieh  has  Ixien  converte<l  into  barracks  for  tho 
marrie«l  soldiers,  and  a  station  whence  aj»proaching  vesseln 
are  signalled  to  tho  town.     A  steep  and  rugged  foot-path 
over  tho  rocks  led  us  to  tho  blockhouse,  out  of  whieh  rises 
tho  signal-staflT,  on  the  apex  of  tlie  headlan.l.     Tho  door 
was  open,  the  house   untenanted,  and  I  made  my  way  to 
the  look-out  gallery,  and  used  the  excellent  telescope,  with- 
out  hindrance  from  any  one.     The  panorama  from  this 
point  is  superb,  cnibracing  tho  town  and   harbor   of  St. 
Johns,  the  country  inland,  clouded  with  forests  and  span- 
gled   with   blue  lakes,  as  far  as  the  western   lieadlands 
which  rise  above  Conception  Bay.     At  my  feet  yawned 
the  throat  of  tho  wonderful  harbor;  Southsi<le  Hill,  gray 
and  mossy,  rose  beyond  it,  with  tlio  long,  narrow  inlet  of 
P'reshwater  Bay  to  the  left,  and  the  bold  green  hills  of  tho 
coast  stretching  away  to  Capo  Spear.     Between  me  and 
tho  latter  point  tho   boats  of  the  St.   Johns  fishermen 
swarmed  over  the  water,  and  on  a  distant  liorizon  arose 
the  w^all  of  white  fog  which  marks  the  boundaries  of  the 
Grand  l^ank. 

I  had  a  strong  desire  to  visit  the  fishing  village  of  Quid! 
Vidi,  at  the  foot  of  the  lake  of  the  same  name,  and  on 
descending  Signal  Tlill  took  a  path  which  led  to  the  right, 
along  the  top  of  a  range  of  grassy  fields.    The  people  of 


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270 


AT   HOMK  AND   ABROAD. 


St.  Johns  account  for  the  name  of  the  lake  by  a  tradition 
of  an  old  Portuguese  sailor,  its  discoverer,  who,  at  first 
beholding  it,  cried  out  in  his  native  language,  "What  do  I 


see 


•i  5> 


This  lake  is  a  favorite  resort  in  summer,  and  the 
place  where  the  annual  regattas  are  held.     It  is  about  a 
inde  long,  lying  in  a  deep  valley,  the  sides  of  which  are 
covered  with  hay-fields.    A  stream  from  its  further  end 
falls  in  a  succession  of  little  cascades  down  a  rocky  ledge 
into  the  land-locked  cove,  around  which  the  villa-e   of 
Quidi  Vidi  is  built.     Wo  pursued  our  path  Dver  a  sroping 
down  covered  with  dwarf  whortle-berries  and  wild  roses 
of  delicious  perfume.     The  Kalmia    latifolia    grew    in 
III  thick  clumps,  and  its  flowering  period  was  not  entirely 

past.  After  a  walk  of  a  mile  we  reached  the  vUlage,  which 
contains  forty  or  fifty  houses,  built  at  the  head  and  along 
the  sides  of  an  oval  sheet  of  water,  completely  inclosed  by 
the  red  rocks,  and  so  silent  and  glassy  that  no  one  would 
ever  suppose  it  communicated  with  the  turbulent  sea 
without. 

Quidi  Vidi  is   entirely  a  fishing  village,  and  a  more 
picturesque  one  an  artist   could  not  desire.      Except  the 
smells  of  the  codfish  drying  on  the  lofty  flakes,  which  at 
once  disenchant  a  romantic  visitor,  it  seems  almost  Arca- 
dian in  its  air  of  neatness  and  of  quiet.    The  flakes,  not- 
withstanding the  uses  to  which  they  are   dedicated,  are 
really  picturesque  objects,  their  light  platforms  shooting 
above  the  grassy  knolls  around  the  village,  and  even  above 
the  houses  and  lanes,  so  that  portions  of  the  place  are 
veritably  roofed   with   cod-fish.      The    boat-houses,   con- 
Btructed  of  light   poles  with   the  bark  on,  extend  over 


f 


A.   TELEGRAPHIC   TKIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAND.  271 

the  water,  whose  green  depths  mirror  the  white  cottages 
the  flakes,  and  the  red  rocks  towering  above  them.     Three 
or  four  fishermen  wJio  had  just  returned  from  their  day's 
work,  sahited  us  in  a  friendly  manner,  and  at  our  request 
manned  a  boat  and  pulled  us  to  the  mouth  of  the  cove 
where  a  gut  betsveen  the  rocks,  thirty  or  forty  feet  in 
breadth  and  two  hundred  feet  in  length,  conducts  to  the 
sea.     Tins  gut  is  so  8haIlow,  that  at  some  seasons  the  fish- 
ermen  are   confined  within  their   cove   for  a  week  at  a 
tune,   unable  to  get   their  boats  outside.    A  heavy  sea 
also  imprisons  them,  and  although  there  was  a  very  li^ht 
swell   at   the  time   of  our  visit,   our   boatmen    prefer^d 
waxtmg  for  the   pauses   of  smooth  water.     The   outside 
cove,  between  the  headlands  of  Sugar  Loaf  and   Cuck- 
old s  Head,  is  small  but  exceedingly  beautiful,  the  nearly 
vertical  strata  of  red  sandstone  shooting  like  walls  to  the 
height  of  several  hundred  feet  above  the  water     A  her 
nng  net  was  sot   inside  of  the  cove,  and   two  or   three 
youths  in  a  boat  with  a  gun,  were  endeavoring  to  shoot 
a  salt-water  pigeon.     Our  fishermen  were  fine,  athletic 
honest  fellows,  and  I  should  desire  no  better  recreation' 
than  to  Ixve  a  month   among   them,  sharing  their  labors 
so  far  as  I  might  be   able,  and  drawing  strength  from 
their  healthy  and  manly  natures. 

In  the  evening  the  grand  ball,  given  to  the  officers  of  the 
Telegraph  Company  and  their  guests,  came  off  at  the  Colo- 
mal  Buildings.  It  had  only  been  determined  upon  at  the 
dinner  on  board  the  James  Adger  the  evening  before,  and 
he  citizens  of  St.  Johns,  who  had  taken  upon  themselves 
the  labor  of  getting  up  the  entertainment,  were  in  a  ferment 


V 


i-aFSLT^iafrj^R- ''."  '■"'.-^■fe 


272 


AT   UOMJB   AND  ABEOAD. 


of  preparation  from  morning  till  night.    A  large  private 
party  which  had  been  appointed  for  the  same  evening  was 
postponed  until  the  next  week,  and  all  the  resources  of  the 
place  called  upon  to  furnish  a  display  which  should  be  cre- 
ditable to  it  and  to  the  occasion.    They  succeeded  admira- 
bly, and  the  festivity  no  doubt  passed  off  with  greater 
spirit  and  cordiality  on  account  of  its  impromptu  character. 
The  Cclonial  Buildings  were  brilliantly  illuminated ;  hbra- 
ries  and  oflSces  were  converted  into  dressing-rooms,  the 
Supreme  Court  became  a  ball-room,  and  the  Assembly 
Chamber  contained  more  good  things  (in  the  way  of  sup- 
per)  than  for  a  long  time  before.    At  the  extremity  of  the 
ball-room  the  English  and  American  flags  were  displayed, 
and  the  band  of  the  garrison  played  loudly  for  the  dancers. 
At  supper  we  had  speeches  from  Mr.  Little,  Mr.  Cooper, 
and  Mr.  Field,  with  the  usual  amount  of  cheers  and  enthu- 
siasm. 

All  the  belle  sof  St.  Johns  were  present,  and  we  had  an 
opportunity  of  verifying  the  reports  of  their  beauty .  There 
are  no  fresher  and  lovelier  complexions  out  of  England. 
They  retain  the  pure  red  and  rt'hite — milk  and  roses,  say 
the  Germans — of  their  transmarine  ancestry,  with  the  bright 
eyes  and  delicate  features  of  our  own  continent.  I  was 
glad  to  see,  however,  that  our  young  American  ladies  bore 
the  test  of  comparison  without  injury,  and  that  it  was  not 
merely  the  courtesy  due  to  strangers  which  attracted  the 
Newfoundland  bachelors  towards  them. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  healthy  appearance  of  the 
people.  Statistics  show  that  there  is  no  climate  in  the 
world  more  conducive  to  health  and  longevity ;  but  proba- 


A  TELEGRAPHIC  TEIP   TO   NEWFOUNDLAND.  273 

bly  the  quiet,  unexcitable  habits  of  the  Newfoundlanders 
contribute  somewhat  to  this  result.    Therd'are,  I  have  been 
informed,  no  prevalent  diseases.    I  have  heard  of  some 
cases  of  consumption  among  the  fishermen,  probably  occa- 
sioned  by  extreme  hardship  and  exposure  ;  but  fevers  and 
diseases  of  the  digestive  and  nervous  systems  are  rare.    Is^o 
race  of  people  that  I  have  ever  seen  shows  more  healthy 
and  vigorous   stamina,   and  the  natural  morality   which 
accompanies  this  condition.     They  are  nourished  by  the  - 
pure,   vital  blood,   unmixed   with  any  of  those  morbid 
elements  which  so  often  poison  the  life  of  our  physically 
and  spiritually  intemperate  American  people.     When  shaU 
we  learn  the  all-important  truth  tha..  eice  is  oftener  patho- 
logical  than  inherent  in  the  heart,  and  that  a  sound  body  is 
the  surest  safeguard  against  those  social  evils  with  which 
we  are  threatened  ? 

Our  passengers  invested  largely  in  dogs.    The  pure 
Newfoundland  breed,  however,  is  about  as  difficult  to  be 
obtamed  in  St.  Johns  as  elsewhere,  owing  to  its  being  con- 
tmually  crossed  with  exported  curs  of  all  kinds.     Now  a'nd 
then  you  see  a  specimen,  whose  beauty,  sagacity,  and  noble 
animal  dignity  proclaim  him  to  be  of  the  true  blood  but 
such  are  held  in  high  estimation  and  rarely  offered  for  sale 
In  the  out-ports,  especially  towards  Labrador,  the  genuine 
breed  is  more  frequently  met  with.     Of  the  fifteen  or 
twenty  on  board,  three  or  four  were  very  fine  animals. 
They  were  all  jet-black,  long-haired,  and  web-footed,  but 
of  very  diflTercnt  degrees  of  beauty  and  intelligence     The 
prices  range  from  two  to  ten  dollars,  according  to  age  and 
quality. 

12* 


274 


AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 


m 


On  Friday  morning  I  made  the  ascent  of  South-side  hill, 
which  is  the  liighest  point  near  St.  Johns,  rising  to  an  alti- 
tude of  seven  or  eight  hundred  feet  ahove  the  sea.  Cross- 
ing the  bridge  at  the  head  of  the  harbor,  I  took  a  steep, 
stony  jiath,  which  presently  separated  into  a  number  of 
sheep-tracks,  and  branched  off  among  the  scrubby  under- 
growth which  covered  the  hill.  I  therefore  made  a  straight 
course  for  tlie  crest  of  the  ridge,  which  I  reached  after  a 
rough  walk  of  nearly  two  miles,  over  boggy  shelves  of  level 
soil,  up  stony  d^H-livities,  and  through  tearing  thickets  of 
stunted  spruce.  The  top  of  the  hill  is  covered  with  a 
spongy,  peat-like  carpet,  a  foot  or  more  in  depth,  formed 
from  the  accumulated  deposits  of  the  leaves  and  boughs  of 
the  trees  which  once  covered  it.  The  view  is  not  so  })ic- 
turesque  as  that  from  Signal  hill,  but  embraces  a  much 
greater  extent  of  country  to  the  south  and  east — a  wild, 
unsettled  chaos  of  dark,  wooded  hills  rolling  away  to  the 
Atlantic  headlands. 

We  walked  for  a  mile  or  more  (I  had  one  companion) 
along  the  ridge  to  get  a  better  view  of  Freshwater  harbor, 
which  lies  just  cast  of  the  hill.  Rougher  travelling  ct  Id 
not  well  be.  The  summit  was  cut  and  gashed  both  laterally 
and  in  the  line  of  its  direction  by  chasms  of  various  depth 
and  breadth,  sometimes  forming  little  dells  with  cold  ponds 
at  the  bottom,  sometimes  so  concealed  by  a  dense  growth 
of  spruce  that  we  slipped  dovm  to  our  waists  among  the 
bony  branches  before  v/e  were  aware.  No  ordinary  boots 
or  garments  could  stand  more  than  three  days  of  such 
work.  At  last  we  reached  the  shoulder  of  a  hill  overlook- 
ing Freshwater  harbor,  which  we  found  to  be  merely  a 


;» 


A  TELK.JIiAriIIC  TUa-  TO   NKWFOLNDLA.VI).  276 

long,  narrow  cove,  ti.e  end  of  which  was  closed  l.y  a  sand- 
hav.  1  here  were  two  or  three  fi.shennen's  huts  on  it.s  banks 
and  a  narrow  strip  of  grazing  land  al.ng  the  edge  of  the 
bleak  wilderness  h.  which  it  wa.  inclosed:  The  ocean  M'as 
dotted  with  fishing  craft,  sprinkled  all  over  its  blue  surfaco 
On  a  favorite  ba.ik  inside  of  Cape  Spear  a  crowd  of  fortv 
or  iifty  had  collected  together. 

Our  labor  was  repaid  by  stinnbling  „po„  a  path  which 
led  from  Freshwater  to  St.  Johns.     0„  our  return  I  noticed 
a  lonely  cabin  among  the  thickets  on  the  northern  side  of 
the  hill,  and  left  the  path  to  pay  it  a  visit  and  learn  who 
the  people  were  who  lived  in  such  a  wild  place.    We  made 
our  way  with  difliculty  through  the  trees  and  over  the 
chasms  until  wo  reached  a  little  glen  where  some  clearing 
had  been  done  and  two  patches  of  weakly  potatoes  had 
been  planted,  in  the  black,  spongy  soil.    The  cabin  stood 
on  a  stonv  knob  just  above.    As  we  approached,  a  little 
gnl  ran  n,  and  closed  the  door,  and  a  dog  set  up  a  fierce 
clamor.    I  knocked,  and  ailer  some  delay  an  Irishwoman 
with  wild  eyes,  unkempt  hair,  and  a  dirty  face,  made  her 
appearance.     I  asked  her  for  a  drink;  whereupon  she  pre- 
sently came  with  a  small  pitcher,  and  requested  us  to  wait 
until  she  should  go  to  a  spring  at  a  little  distance,  the 
water  of  which  was  superior  to  that  of  the  stream  near 
the  house.     When  she  returned  we   entered  the   house, 
which  was  the  very  counterpart  of  an  Irish   cabin-the' 
walls    of  stone   and   mud,   the  floor  of  earth,   and  the 
furniture  of  the  rudest  and  scantiest  sort.    Three  girls 
were   squatting  around   a  pile  of  smoky  brushwood   in 
the  chimney.place,  and  the  dog,  not  yet  satisfied  in  re- 


276 


AT   UOMB  AJJD   ABROAD. 


1 1 


i:: 


gard  to  our  characters,  stood  sullenly  growling  beside 
theta. 

The  woman,  in  8i)ite  of  her  appearance,  had  that  natural 
courtesy  which  springs  from  the  heart.     After  giving  us 
some  water  she  produced  a  slab  of  oaten  bread  an  Inch 
thick,  and  strongly  resembling  a  specimen  of  gritstone. 
The  taste,  however,  was  better  than  the  appearance;  and 
when  she  added  a  fragment  of  salt  codfish  and  insisted  on 
our  drinking  a  pot  of  coffee,  which  I  have  no  doubt  she 
had  prepared  for  her  ovvti  and  her  children's  dinner,  we 
found  her  hos;)itality  by  no  means  to  be  despised.    The 
humble  fare  had  an  excellent  relish  after  our  scramble,  and 
the  hearty  good  will  with  which  it  was  offered  freshened 
the  sapless  codfish  and  smoothed  the  asperities  of  the  oat- 
meal slab.    A  large  gray  cat  came  into  the  cabin  while  wo 
were  thus  engaged,  and  after  having  regarded  us  with  much 
gravity  for  a  few  moments,  marched  out  agam.     "  Och !  " 
said  the  woman,  »  but  that  is  a  wonderful  cat,  sure.     There 
niver  was  such  a  cat  in  the  world  at  all  at  all.    She's  not 
afraid,  sir,  of  the  biggest  dog  that  ever  barked ;  she'll  tiy 
at  his  throat,  an'  if  ye  didn't  take  her  off  she'd  kill  him 
mighty  quick,  I  tell  ye.     She  knows  everything  that's  goin' 
on,  -md  she  understands  your  words  as  plain  as  any  Chris- 
tian.    One  night  me  husband  and  meself  was  sittin'  in  this 
blessed  room,  an'  we  heard  a  scratchin'  like,  at  the  door. 
Says  my  husband,  '  Peggy,  I  think  there's  a  rat  comin'.' 
Well,  the  cat  was  up  in  the  loft,  and  she  heard  what  he 
said,  and  she  came  dow^n  that  very  instant  and  waited  by 
the  door  till  the  rat  came  in.    It  was  a  dirty,  big  rat, 
bigger  nor  the  cat  herself,  and  she  says  nothin'  but  lets  it 


I 

I* 


If 


A  TKLEO.B^PUIC  TRIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAND.  277 

go  down  into  the  cellar  in  yon  coiner;  ibln  she  heads  it  off 
and  jumps  on  it.  Oh,  Holy  Virgin,  didn't  the  rat  roar  I 
And  it  was  the  lh\g  of  the  rats,  so  my  husband  said,  and 
never  a  rat  put  his  ugly  nose  into  this  house  since  that 
night,  an'  its  four  years  ago." 

The  cat  was  the  object  of  the  woman's  boundless  enthu- 
siasm ;  and  her  stories  of  its  sagacity  were  so  amusing  that 
we  were  lavish  in  our  expressions  of  wonder  and  admira- 
tion, for  the  sake  of  encour..r';iag  her.     "  Slie  a'most  fiight- 
ens  rae  Bometimjs,"'  slie  added,— '-she  looks  into  my  face 
like  a  human  craytur,  an'  I  think  sho'll  up  un'  upake  to  me. 
When  she  sees  anything  strange  she  jist  sits  down  on  her 
hinder  claws,  an'  she  houlds  her  fore  claws  on  eitc'u  side  of 
her  head,  an'  she  looks  straight  forrid  till  her  eyes  blaze, 
and  her  body  stretches  right  up,  gittin'  thinner  au'  thinner, 
an'  longer  an'  longer,  till  she'g  full  a  yard  and  a  half  high." 
We  took  our  departure  after  this,  giving  the  woman  a 
small  recompense  for  her  stories,  her  oaten  bread,  and  her 
kindness,  and  receiving  the  invocatio    of  the  Virgin's  bless- 
ing in  return. 

In  the  evening  there  was  a  social  gathering  at  the  house 
of  Mr.  Stabb,  which  was  attended  by  nearly  all  our  guests. 
A  portion  of  our  company  were  conveyed  thither  in  car- 
riages ;  but  as  there  were  not  enough  of  the  latter  to  accom- 
modate all,  the  remainder  set  out  on  foot.  I  presume  it 
was  a  new  sight  for  St.  Johns  to  witness  fifteen  or  twenty 
gentlemen  and  ladies  in  evening  dress  promenading  the 
streets.  We  had  not  gone  far  before  we  were  aware  of  a 
convoy  of  attendants  or  admirers  rather  loud  than  respect- 
ful.   The  procession  increased  at  every  step ;  couriers  were 


I 


wmmm 


278 


AT   I105IK    AND   ABROAD. 


I 


sent  in  aavance  to  spread  the  news,  and  the  dark  side-streets 
poured  little  rills  of  rowdyism  into  the  great  current  upon 
which  we  were  borne.    The  demonstration  was  confined  to 
whistles,  yells,  and  other  outcries,  with  occasional  remarks 
on  the  appearance  or  dress  of  some  of  our  party,  made  in 
that   qiuiint,   picturesque  styje  which   is   peculiar  to  the 
f/amlns  of  London  and  New  York.     We  were  fearful  lest 
they  should  carry  the  joke  beyond  the  limits  of  endurance; 
but  the  crowd  was  a  thoroughly  good-humored  one,  and  on 
our  arrival  at  our  destination,  the  whole  convoy,  then  num- 
bering  between  two  and  three  hundred,  united  in  giving  us 
three  cheers. 

The  hospitality  of  St.  Johns  never  flagged  up  to  the  last 
moment.  Our  party  lived  almost  entirely  on  shore,  in  a 
round  of  festivities,  which  were  very  delightful,  because 
they  were  spontaneous.  We  found  it  impossible  to  accept 
half  the  invitn^Jons  which  we  received,  from  sheer  want  of  • 
time.  We  aii  x  .tain  the  most  agreeable  recollections  of  our 
visit,  and  not  a  few  of  our  jiarty  cherish  the  hope  of  return- 
ing at  some  future  day,  and  renewing  the  acquaintances  so 
auspiciously  commenced. 

As  we  were  passing  Chain  Rock  battery,  on  the  afternoon 
of  our  departure,  we  noticed  the  boats  of  Mr.  Huested  an- 
chored over  the  Merlin  rock,  lying  in  the  channel,  the 
removal  of  which  had  been  completed  during  our  visit. 
Mr.  Huested  hailed  us,  saying  he  would  give  us  a  parting 
salute.  Nearly  all  the  passengers  were  gathered  on  the 
hurricane-deck  at  the  time,  looking  their  last  on  the  reced- 
ing  harbor.  There  was  a  movement  on  Mr.  Huested'a 
boat ;  a  handling  of  wures ;  a  touch— and  then  followed  a 


s^^s^ssi 


A   TELEGRAPIIIC  TRIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAND. 


2V0 


dumb,  heavy  explosion  which  shook  our  steamer—then  not 
fifty  yards  from  the  spot.    In  a  second  a  circle  of  water 
forty  or  fifty  feet  in  diametei  over  the  rock  was  violently 
agitated ;  a  narrower  circle  was  hurled  into  the  air  to  the 
heiglit  of  thirty  feet;  and  from  the  centre  a  sheaf  of  silvery 
jets  sprang  seventy  or  eighty  feet  above  the  surface  of  the 
sea.    The  enormous  masses  of  water  curved  outwards  as 
they  ascended,  and  stood  for  an  instant  like  colossal  jdunics 
Avaving  against  the  sun,  which  shone  through  their  tops 
and  blinded  our  eyes  with  the  diamond  lustre.    It  was  a 
Great  Geyser  of  the  sea — a  momentary  but  sublime  picture 
which  no  volcanic  well  of  the  Icelandic  valleys  can  surpass. 
As  it  fell,  the  shower  of  airy  spray  drifted  down  upon  us, 
drenching  ourselves  and  the  decks,  but  creating  a  sudden 
rainbow  over  the  paddle-boxes— an  arch  of  promise  which 
spanned  our  course  for  an  instant,  and  melted  into  air  with 
the  sound  of  our  parting  cheera. 


jStSBm 


XXIII. 

A  TELEGRAPHIC  TRIP  TO  NEWFOUNDLAND. 


[AUGUST,   1866.] 


rV. — A  Tramp  into  the  Interior. 

After  clearing  Cape  Spear,  on  Saturday  afternoon,  wo 
stood  down  the  coast,  intending  to  stop  for  the  night  at  the 
Bay  of  Bulls,  about  twenty  miles  distant,  in  order  to  put 
the  steamer  in  proper  trim.     The  hills  rose  abruptly  from 
the  water's  edge  to  the  height  of  seven  or  eight  hundred 
feet,  their  ribs  and  shoulde-s  of  dark-red  rock  but  scantily 
clothed  with  a  covering  of  gray  moss,  sheep's  laurel,  and 
dwarf  fir-trees.     There  are  neither  rocks  nor  shoals  on  this 
part  of  the  coast,  and  the  steamer  might  have  sailed  to 
Cape  Race  within  a  gunshot  of  the  land.     The  deep  sea- 
swells,  caught  in  the  innumerable  clefts  and  hollows  of  the 
rocks,  burst  upwards  in  enormous  jets  of  foam,  which  sub- 
sided to  rise  again  after  a  minute  or  two  of  cahn.    In  one 


A  TELKGUAruiC  TRIP  TO  NEWFOUNDLAND.  281 

pomt  there  was  a  spout  or  breathing-hole  through  the  ro-k 
opening  about  fifly  feet  above  the  sea.  After  each  sweli 
rol  ed  in,  a  slender  phune  of  snow-white  spray,  thirty  feet 
^.gh  shot  through  the  orifiee  and  waved  a  moment  on  the 
bnnk  of  the  elitf.  The  picturesque  inequalities  of  the  coast 
a.Kl  these  curious  and  graceful  caprices  of  the  sea  made  u. 
forget  Its  terrors  as  a  lee  shore,  and  its  uleakness  and  ste- 
nlity  as  a  place  for  the  dwelling  of  man. 

We  had  a  very  strong  south-west  wind  to  contend  against 
with  along,  rolling  head.well,  ^vhich  was  severely  felt  by 
all  who  had  indulged  in  the  late  hours  and  sumptuous  su^ 
pcrs  of  St.  Johns.     It  was  a  partial  relief  when  we  rounded 
into  the  Bay  of  Bulls  and  ran  through  a  mile  of  smooth 
water  to  its  head.     The  harbor  is  nearly  elliptical  in  shape. 
The  northern  shore  rises  into  a  high  conical  peak,  partly 
covered  with  stunted  spruce  and  fir-trees,  and  .iopin..  on  its 
western  siue  into  a  range  of  hills  which  sweep  like  an 
amphitheatre  nround  the  bay.     The  vUlage  is  built  around 
the  head  of  the  harbor,  and  contains  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  houses.    Tlie  hills  behind  it  have  been  cleared  and 
turned  mto  fields  of  barley  and  grass.    The  place,  with  its 
wooden  church,  its  fi.sh-flakes  along  the  water,  its  two  or 
three  large  storehouses,  its  yellow  fields  of  late  hay,  and 
the  dark,  dwarfish  woods  behind,  reminded  me  strongly  of 
a  view  on  one  of  the  Norwegian  fjords.    A  large  white 
liouse  was  pointed  cut  to  me  as  the  residence  of  a  lady  who 
IS  godmothe.  to  thirty-nine  children-a  fact  which  shows 
either  that  children  are  veiy  plenty  or  godmothers  very 
scarce.  ^ 

As  the  signs  of  good  weather  continued  and  the  ship 


282 


AT  HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


4 


proved  to  he  in  tolerable  trim,  Ave  landed  a  St.  Johns  pilot 
■whom  we  had  taken  aboard  for  the  harbor,  anc^  immediately- 
put  to  sea.  ^Vs  long  as  it  was  light  we  kept  near  the  coast, 
and  at  dusk  passed  the  bay  or  cove  of  Ferryland,  where 
two  of  the  Arctic's  boats  came  to  land,  with  the  few  who 
were  saved  by  that  means.  The  shores  are  here  low  and 
green,  but  the  light  was  too  indistinct  for  objects  to  be 
readily  perceived.  After  night  we  stood  a  little  further 
from  the  coast,  still  keeping  near  it,  in  spite  of  a  fog  which 
was  at  times  so  dense  that  nothing  could  be  seen  a  ship's 
length  distant.  At  dayliglit  Cape  Pine  was  in  sight ;  Cai)e 
Chapeaurouge,  forty  miles  oflf,  showed  itself  once  or  twice 
during  the  forenoon ;  and  before  sunset  we  had  a^ain 
passed  3t.  Pierre  and  Miquclon.  The  sea  subsided  a  little 
in  the  afternoon,  and  nearly  all  were  on  deck  at  sunset  to 
watch  one  of  the  most  superb  skies  of  the  North  fade 
more  beautifully,  through  its  hues  of  orange,  amber-green, 
and  carmine,  than  all  the  dolphins  that  ever  died. 

Early  on  Monday  morning  we  saw  Cape  Kay,  and,  run- 
ning westward  along  the  coast,  made  the  rocky  point  off 
Port-aux-Basques  in  an  hour  or  two.  Through  the  glass 
we  saw  the  little  steamer  Victoria  at  anchor  in  the  harbor 
and  the  top-masts  of  a  three-masted  vessel.  All  was  anxiety 
on  board  to  know  whether  she  was  the  long-expected  baik 
Sarah  L,  Bryant,  with  the  submarine  cable  on  board,  when, 
five  or  six  miles  out  of  port,  a  boat  approached  us,  and  Capt. 
Sluyter  of  the  Victoria  confirmed  tiie  welcome  news.  The 
James  Adger,  owing  to  her  length,  reached  a  good  anchor- 
iug-ground  at  the  head  of  the  harl)or  with  some  difliculty. 
We  soon  ascertained  that  the  machinery  requisite  for  payinn- 


A  TELEGRAPHIC  TEIP  TO   NE^VFOUXDLAND.  283 

out  the  cable  l.ad  not  yet  been  put  up,  and  the  M^ork  could 
not  be  commenced  for  a  day  or  two.    Mr.  Cooper,  thereforo 
determined  to  cross  to  Cape  North,  the  Cape  Breton  ter! 
minus,  and  select  a  proper  place  to  bring  the  cable  ashore 
.    As  soon  as  this  announcement  was  made,  a  number  of 
our  passengers  prepared  to  go  ashore,  and  spend  the  inter- 
v^enmg  time  in  becoming  acquainted  with  the  village  and 
the  neighboring  country.    But  short4ime  was  given  us  to 
fit  out,  and  I  barely  managed  to  snatch  a  shawl,  a  sketch- 
book,  a  few  ship's  biscuits,  and  a  handful  of  red  herrin^ 
before  the  boat  pushed  off  with  us.     A  party  of  four-Mr' 
Sluyter,  Mr.  O'Brien,  Mr.  Middlebrook,  and  myself-deter- 
nuned  to  make  a  foray  into  the  hills  behind  the  village  in 
the  hope  of  shooting  a  cariboo,  or  reindeer;  and  our  first 
care,  on  landing  at  the  piles  of  codfish  before  Mr    Wad 
dell's  hous^  .vas  to  procure  guns,  supphes,  and  guides. 
Mr.  IVaddell-who  acted  as  if  his  house  and  all  that  was 
m  It  belonged  as  much  to  ourselves  as  to  him-not  only 
gave  us  a  good  dinner  of  bean-so«p  and  duff,  but  all  his 
towling-pieces,  ammunition,  and  equipments.     He  even  con- 
sented to  keep  tally  of  the  quintals  of  dried  codfish  which 
his  men  were  carrying  onboard  of  a  schooner  lying  below 
h.s  storehouse,  in  order  that  his  tally-man,  John  Butt  by 
name,  m-ght  act  as  our  pilot  over  the  marshy  hills     Butt 
.-as  a  stout  St.  Johnsman,  with  a  strong,  tanned  face,  clear, 
bght-blue  eyes,  and  a  shock-head  of  curled  and  grizzly  hair 
At  my  suggestion  he  procured  two  other  men-Genge    a 
bcniy  fisherman,  with  prominent  nose  and  enormous  sandy 
whiskers,  and  his  step-son  Robert,  a  bright-eyed  youth  of 
twenty-two.     We  added  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  dried  cod- 


II 


284  AT   U03ILB  A^D   AUHOAD. 

fish  to  our  slender  stock  of  provisions — trusting  to  our 
muskets  for  a  further  supply — and  turned  our  backs  on  the 
village  and  our  faces  towards  the  misty  range  of  Cape  Kay 
Highlands. 

Following  a  bridle-track  beside  the  telegraph  poles,  over 
a  black,  quaky  soil,  we  soon  reached  one  of  the  bights  of 
the  harbor,  where  Butt  had  a  boat  moored  to  the  rocks. 
He  proposed  to  cross  to  the  opposite  shore  in  order  to 
avoid  a  tedious  circuit  around  the  head  of  the  harbor ;  and, 
as  the  water  was  still,  we  all  embarked  in  his  tight  little 
skiff,  w'  ''  sank  to  within  two  inches  of  her  gunwale.  Ey 
careful  ii  araing  she  carried  us  safely  over,  when  the  men 
drew  her  ashore  at  the  head  of  a  narrow  inlet,  and  thrust 
the  oars  into  a  thicket  of  dwarf  fir-trees.  We  now  took 
np  the  line  of  march — climbing  a  glen  embraced  by  two 
gray  and  ragged  hills,  the  sides  of  which  were  furrowed 
"with  deeply-worn  gullies,  while  pools  of  dark-brown  water 
fiUe  \  up  every  inequahty  of  the  soil.  The  footing  was  of 
spongy  moss,  mixed  with  a  sort  of  furze,  into  v/hich  our 
feet  sank  to  a  depth  of  three  or  four  inches  at  every  step. 
In  the  inn  imerable  hollows  which  crossed  our  path  the 
ground  was  often  completely  saturated  with  water,  and 
occasionally  bridged  over  with  some  of  those  hardy  plants 
whose  tough  fibre  in  these  latitudes  rivals  that  of  the 
human  frame.  In  other  places  the  stubborn,  stunted 
growth  of  spruce  and  fir  so  filled  the  lateral  clefts  across 
the  hills  that  I  could  walk  on  their  tops,  at  the  risk,  it  is 
true,  of  making  a  false  step  and  slipring  down  to  my  waist 
among  the  horny  branches.  There  was  no  path,  nor  any- 
thing that  would  se.'ve  as  a  landmark ;  for  each  dip  or  rise 


A  TELEGRAPHIC  TRIP  TO  NEWFOUNDLAND. 

of  the  hills  seemed  the  counterpart  of  that  we  jad  just 
seen.  Gray  rock,  gray  moss,  dark  spruce  thicket,  and  dark 
tarn,  were  mingled  and  mottled  together  so  bewilderingly, 
with  such  endless  repetitions  of  the  same  forms  and  hues,' 
that  I  should  have  found  it  difficult  to  lay  down  a  clue  that 
could  be  readily  taken  up  again.  I  noticed  that  Butt, 
under  whose  guidance  we  had  placed  ourselves,  chose  his 
course  rather  by  the  compass  than  by  the  appearance  of 
the  objects  around  us. 

We  had  proceeded  three   or  four  mi.'-s  in  this  way, 
making  frequent    detours    in   order  to   get   around   the' 
long,  deep  ponds  of  black  water,  or  the  deeper  ravines 
whose  walls  of  perpendicular  gray  rock  effectually  barred 
our  passage,  when  a  shot  from  one  of  our  party  gave  the 
first  signal  of  game.     A  covey  of  grouse  had  been  started, 
and  a  short  but  lively  chase  over  the  rough  ground  resulted 
m  our  bagging  five  of  the  six  birds  which  arose.     Two  or 
three  of  the  more  enthusiastic  sportsmen  followed  over  the 
higher  ridges  in  search  for  more,  while  the  rest  of  us 
plodded  on  towards  the  highlands,  eager  for  a  sight  of 
cariboo,  and  hurried  by  Butt's  desire  to  reach  a  good  camp- 
ing-ground before  dark.     The  deep  carpets  or  cushions  of 
plants  and  decaying  vegetable  mould  over  which  wc  walked 
were  studded  with  berries  of  various  kinds,  all  of  which 
the  men  plucked  and  ate.    Tliere  was  a  small  plant  with  a 
dark-purple  leaf  and  an  orange-colored  pulpy  fruit  about 
the  size  of  a  cherry,  which  they  termed  "bake-apples  (in 
reaVity  the  Habus  cfmmemonis,  or  multeherry,  of  Norway), 
the  flavor  of  which,  containing  a  mihl,  pleasant  nHd,  really 
resembled  that  of  a  frozen  apple.    The  whortleberrv,  which 


*-will-miiMj^Liii^!r--. 


286 


AT   HOltF   AND   ABROAD. 


they  called  "hurts"  or  "whorts,"  was  not  more  than  two 
or  three  inches  in  height,  and  the  fruit  was  scanty.  The 
"  cranberry,"  growing  on  a  short,  green  moss,  was  about 
the  size  and  appearance  of  a  juniper  berry,  with  a  pungent, 
bitter,  but  not  unpleasant  taste.  There  was  another  fruii, 
culled  the  "  stoneberry,"  a  bunch  of  small,  scarlet  berries, 
which  are  much  leas  insipid  to  the  eye  than  to  the  palate. 

We  were  at  last  so  far  in  advance  of  the  sportsmen  that 
we  were  obliged  to  halt  while  one  of  the  men  ascended  the 
nearest  hill  to  look  for  them.     By  this  time  we  were  five 
or  six  miles  from  the  harbor,  and  the  scenery  began  to 
assume  a  very  different  character.     We  overlooked  a  deep 
valley,  the  bottom  of  which  consisted  of  woods  of  spruce, 
fir,  and  larch  trees,  interspersed  with  open,  grassy  bottoma. 
A  range  of  dark,  wooded  hills  rose  opposite,  down  a  gorge, 
in  the  midst  of  which  a  large  stream  fell  in  a  succession  of 
sparkling  cascades,  their  noise  reaching  even  to  where  we 
s;it.     Beyond  all  towered  the  long  blue  rampart  of  the 
C.ipe  Highlands.     I  enjoyed  this  wild  and  lonely  landscape 
for  a  time,  but  the  sportsmen  did  not  appear,  and  Robert, 
who  lay  at  full  length  on  the  moss,  rolling   over  in  liis 
search  for  "  hurts,"  expressed  a  wish  to  go  down  to  a  pond 
below  us  and  "strip."     I  ofiered  to  accompany  him,  and 
we  soon  reached  the  edge  of  the  dark,  sepia-colored  water. 
It  was  shallow,  with   a  deposit   of  snuffy  mould   at  the 
bottom,  sprinkled  with  yellow  pond-lilies,  and  so  cold  as  to 
make  my  skin  shrink,  but  I  plunged  in  and  endured  it  for 
fi\c  minutes.    Robert,  who  had  the   real  Newfoundland 
n:iture,  and  was,  I  have  no  doubt,  web-footed,  floundered 
about   tor   three   times  as  Jong,  splashing,  blowing,  and 


A   TELEGRAPHIC  TRIP  TO   NEWFOITNDLAND.  287 

Stirring  up  the  deposits    of  the   pond   until   his   sinewy, 
Tvell-knit  body  showed  through  the  water  like  new  bronze! 
We  met  no  more  game  after  this  except  gnats  and  mus- 
ketoes,  which  became  both  plentiful  and  venomous  as  wc 
descended  into  the  valley.    The  mountain  stream  we  had 
seen  from  the  height  was  a  tributary  to  Gr.md  Bay  Brook, 
a  rivulat  which  empties  into   the  sea  between  Port-aux- 
Basques  and  Cape  Ray.     The  ground  was  boggy  where 
we  approached  the  brook,  and  there  was  no  convenient 
fordage ;  Avhereui)on  Butt  conducted  us  about  two  miles 
furth3r  to  the  eastward,  near  an  inclosed  mountain  meadow 
called  the  Green  Gardens,  where  we  came  upon  a  dense 
wood  of  well-grown  spruce  and  fir  trees,  sloping  down  to  a 
rapid  in  the  stream.     The  view  from  the  rocks  in  its  bed 
was   charming.     Wild,  dark,  ragged   woods,   opening  to 
the  sunset,  overhung  us  on  either  hand ;  in  front,  up  the 
stream,  rose  a  cliff  of  silvery  rock  ;  and  the  summits  of  the 
unmolested  hills  on  both  sidos  towered  above  the  trees  and 
shut  us  out  from  the  world.     Trout-lines  and  hooks  were 
at  once  produced,  and  while  Butt,  Genge,  and  I  went  into 
the  woods  to  make  our  camp,  the  others  made  flies  of 
grouse-fjathers  and  took  their  stations  beside  the  eddies 
of  the  water.     We  three  selected  a  dry  place  on  the  slope, 
felled   some  trees,   collected    fuel,  started  a   gay  fire  of 
resinous  logs  and   branches,  and  trimmed  spruce  boughs 
enough  to  make  us  an  elastic,  fragrant  bed,  six  inches  deep. 
The  musketoes  had  been  terrible  in  tlie  bed  of  the  brook, 
but  when  the  draught  of  the  blazing  logs  began  to  toss 
the  branches  above  our  heads,  they  speedily  disappeared. 
Our  caterers  came  up   at   dusk,  bitten,  weary,  wet,  and 


2S8 


I 


i 


AT  HOME   AXD  ABBOAO. 


linugry,  and  ready  to  give  a  hearty  assent  to  my  decla- 
ration that  there  is  no  completer  comfort  than  a  seat  by 
the  camp-fire— no  sweeter  rest  than  when  the  boughs  of 
tlie  forest  are  '30th  our  bed  and  canopy. 

The  five  grouse  were  skewered  and  spitted  on  long  sticks 
stuck  into  the  ground,  the  twelve  small  trout  laid  to  broil 
on  a  flat  stone  placed  on  the  coals,  the  hard  pilot  bread 
distributed,  and  we  gradually  made  a  supper  all  too  slender 
for  our  needs.  But  the  gaiae  had  not  been  so  abundant  as 
wo  anticipated ;  it  was  seven  miles  yet  to  the  "  ravage  "  of 
the  cariboo,  with  the  wind  blowing  off  sea  and  carrying 
our  scent  a  league  before  us ;  ana  so  we  laid  the  loaf  and 
tac  codfish  aside  for  breakfast,  and  turned  to  the  pipe  for 
solace.  Wrapped  in  our  shawls,  we  formed  the  spokes  of 
a  wheel  whereof  the  fire  was  the  blazing  centre,  while  Butt 
and  Genge  dragged  up  log  after  log  of  dead  fir-wood,  and 
cast  them  upon  the  pile  until  the  clouds  of  snapping  sparks 
rose  above  the  tree-tops.  The  dense,  dusky  foliage,  lighted 
f  oni  beneath,  glowed  like  a  golden  fretwork  against  tlie 
jet-black  patches  of  sky  above  us,  and  the  mossy  fir-trunk 
and  silvery  birch-boles  seemed  to  grow  transparent  and 
liuninous  as  they  sprang  out  of  the  darkness  Warmed  by 
the  magical  blaze,  spiced  by  the  odor  of  the  crushed 
lioughs,  and  soothed  by  the  mild  influence  of  the  Cuban 
heib,  I  lay,  for  a  long  time,  unable  to  sleep,  looking  on  the 
vollow-bearded  followers  of  Biorne  and  Lief  Ericsson  as 
tliey  once  clustered  around  their  camp-fires  in  this  their 
ancient  ITelluland.  Eight  or  nine  centuries  have  passed 
awny  since  their  Norse-dragons  anchored  in  its  deep  bays 
antl  rock-guarded  coves ;  but  except  the  stumps  of  two  or 


A   TELEGRAPHIC   TRIP   TO   NEWFOUNDLAND.  289 

three  trees  in  the  woods  near  us,  there  was  no  evidence 
that  our  mountain  solitude  had  since  that  time  known  tho 
presence  of"  civilized  maii. 

The  logs  at  last  fell  into  heaps  of  red  coal ;  Butt,  who 
had  climbed  into  the  top  of  a  tree,  where  he  sat  singing  sea- 
songs,  descended  and  coiled  himself  around  its  foot ;  the 
other  men  lay  on  their  backs  and  slept  silently,  and  I  too 
forgot  Biurne  and  his  Norsemen  and  slept  among  the  fra- 
grant boughs.    The  night  passed  away  silently,  and  dawn 
came  gray  and  misty,  threatening  rain,  over  the  woods. 
Our  fishers  went  down  to  the  brook  again,  and  Butt  took 
to  the  hills   with  a  gun  ;    but  after  an  hour  the  latter 
came  back  empty-handed,  and  the  former  with  eight  small 
trout.     We   roasted  the  codfish,  .vhich  was  wonderfully 
salt,  carefully  divided  the  loaf,  distributed  the  trout  (one 
apiece),  and  made  a  rather  unsatisfactory  breakfost.    Ihe 
fact  is,  the  trip,  as  a  sporting  excursion,  had  failed,  although 
it  had  amply  repaid  us  in  all  other  respects.     Our  steamer 
was  expected  to  return  at  noon,  and  the  necessity  of  reach- 
ing Port-aux-Basques    by   that  time  prevented   us  from 
penetrating  further  into   the  hills.     Besides  there  were 
sprinkles  of  rain,  and  other  tokens  of  a  bad  day.    We 
therefore  decided  while  breakfasting  to  take  the  home- 
ward trail.     Familiarity  with  salt  cod  had  bred  contempt 
in  our  men,  and  one  of  them  threw  his  share  into  the 
bushes,  with  the  exclamation:  " It's  downright  murder  to 
eat  thatf^^     But  Genge  wisely  remarked  that  it  was  the 
best  thing  for  short  allowance,  "because,"  said   he,  "it 
makes  you  so  dry  that  you're  always  keeping  yourself 
filled  up  with  water." 

13 


il  .i 

'11 


290 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


,!  J 


Theii  had  been  a  heavy  dew,  and  the  moss  was  like  a 
wet  sponge.  We  had  rather  a  soaking  return  tramp  of  it, 
often  stopping  to  drink  of  tl'y  brown  rills,  or  to  refresh  our 
j.alatcs  with  the  acid  " '. Jtc-apples,"  yet  never  seeing  a 
grouse  or  a  hare.  The  clouds,  after  some  ominous  leakings, 
lifted,  and  the  wind  blew  cold  from  the  north-west. 
AV'hile  resting  on  a  rock  aboiit  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the 
liaibor,  we  were  startled  by  the  soimd  of  an  engine-whistle 
and  the  blowing  of  steam  from  an  escape-pipe.  Supposing 
it  to  be  the  James  Adger,  we  hurried  on  at  a  breathless 
pace,  plunging  into  gullies  and  tearing  through  thickets  in 
breakneck  style,  until  an  opening  in  the  holes  showed  us 
that  the  sound  proceeded  from  the  little  steamer  Victoria, 
which  was  just  moving  out  of  the  harbor.  She  M'as  on 
hvv  way  to  Cape  Ray,  ten  miles  distant,  to  select  the  initial 
point  of  the  submarine  cable.  Our  own  transfer  across  the 
harbor  was  safely  accomplished — the  water  being  quite 
smooth— and  we  reached  Mr.  Waddeil's  house  in  time  to 
])artakc  of  the  very  good  dinner  which  his  broad-shouldered 
and  red-whiskered  cook  had  prepared.  I  her9  had  an  op- 
1)ortunity  of  tasting  ealaboffus,  the  national  beverage  of 
Newfoundland.  It  is  a  mixture  of  rum  and  spruce  beer  in 
nearly  equal  quantities,  and  has  a  better  flavor  than  one 
would  suspect  from  the  ingredients.  The  spruce  beer,  pure, 
is  made  from  the  young  boughs  of  the  tree  boiled  with  mo- 
lasses, and  is  just  the  beverage — sparkling,  resinous,  sweet, 
and  bitter — to  nourish  so  virile  and  vigorous  a  people. 

In  the  afternoon  I  went  off  to  the  bark  Sarah  L.  Bryant, 
to  see  the  preparations  which  had  been  made  for  paying  out 
the  cable.     I  never  saw  a  vessel  in  a  worse  condition. 


A  TELEGRAPHIC  TEIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAND.  291 

Nearly  all  her  bulkheads  and  stanchions  had  been  cutaway 
to  make  roo.n  for  the  two  immense  coils  of  forty  and  thirty- 
five  miles,  into  which  the  iron-corded  cable  was  bent     Ac 
cordmg  to  the  captain's  account  there  never  was  a  more 
unmanageable  cargo,  and  he  declared  he  would  much  rather 
ship  a  load  of  live  eels.    Its  activity  was  incredible.    lie 
was  obliged  to  cut  up  all  his  spare  .pars  to  shore  up  and  sup- 
port the  slippery  bulk;  yet,  in  spite  of  all  his  precautions,  it 
once  or  t>vice  slipped  through  his  finger,  and  came  near  cap- 
sizing  his  bark.     On  one  occasion  he  was  obliged  to  turn 
completely  about  and  scud  before  the  wind  for  nearly  two 
days.     Under  such  circumstances  it  is  not  remarkable  that 
he  was  forty-eight  days  in  making  the  passage,  but  very 
lucky  that  he  was  able  to  make  it  at  all. 


IK 


XXIV. 

A  TELEGRAPinC  TRIP  TO  NEWFOUNDLAND. 

[AUGUST,   1866.] 


V. — Cape  Ray,  and  the  Newfoundland  Fishermen. 

It  was  dusk  on  Tuesday  evening  before  the  James  Adgei 
made  lier  appearance  off  Port-aux-Basques,  returning  from 
Cape  Breten.  I  had  made  arrangements  to  pass  the  niglit 
in  one  of  the  houses  on  shore,  and  as  the  fosr  was  be"- innin"- 
to  gather,  and  the  Victoria  had  not  yet  made  her  appear- 
ance, judged  that  I  should  be  safe  in  remaining.  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Sayre,  who  had  made  a  journey  to  Cape  Ray  the 
previous  day,  and  camped  all  night  in  a  thicket  of  spruce, 
had  found  accommodations  'vvith  our  friend  Butt,  and  Genge 
oftered  me  similar  hospitality.  Both  of  these  men  offered 
us  every  kindness  in  their  power — bringing  us  their  heavy, 
well-oiled  boots  and  thick  woollen  socks  in  exchange  for  our 
own,  which  were  thoroughly  soaked  by  our  tramp  over  the 
hills.     Their  rough,  hearty  bluntness  assured  me  that   I 


A  TKLEGBAPIIIC  TRIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAND. 


293 

should  be  welcome  to  all  they  could  offer,  and  when  there 
is  warmth  within  a  hut  I  care  not  how  rude  its  exterior 
may  be.  All  our  other  passen-ers  had  gone  off  on  board 
the  steamer,  but  I  greatly  preferred  remaining  ashore. 

The   Victoria  came  in  about  ten   o'clock,  and   the  fog 
soon  afterwards  became  so  dense  that  wo  wpre  satisfied 
neither  of  the  vessels  would  venture  out  of  port.     I  called 
at  Butt's  house,  where,  in  a  neat  kitchen  with  an  ample 
fireplace,  we  found  Mrs.  Butt  nursing  a  rosy  child  of  fifteen 
months  old,  while  a  son  of  twelve  or  thirteen  years  sat  at 
the   table   reading  the  Bible.    The  sounds  of  children's 
voices-and  there  were  many  of  them-came  from  a  sleep- 
ing-room adjoining.     Everything  about  the  house  was  neat 
and  orderly,  and  there  was  an  appearance  of  comfort  which 
I  had  not  looked  for.     Genge  lived  in  a  smaller  cottage,  the 
inside  of  which  was  blackened  by  the  smoke  of  a  wide  chim- 
ney, and  dimly  lighted  by  a  swinging  oil-Iamp.    There  were 
broad  benches  on  either  side  which  evidently  did  duty  as 
beds.     The  floor  was  of  earth,  and  the  only  furniture  was 
a  table,  two  old  chairs,  some  shelves,  and  a  large,  dingy 
cupboard  in  the  corner.    Mrs.  Genge  shook  hands'with  me 
and  bade  me  welcome,  and  on  my  saying  that  I  should  be 
content  with  a  corner  to  sjiread  my  shawl  in,  her  husband 
turnv  a  to  me  with  "Don't  talk  about  corners;  we'll  try  to 
make  you  comfc:  table."    I  was  pleased   to  see  that  my 
presence  did  not  embarrass  ihe  good  fomily  in  the  least,  and 
that,  while  they  showed  me  every  kindness,  I  occasioned  no 
apparent  change  in  the  household. 

I  was  ushered  into  a  little  side-room,  which  to  my  snriM-ise 
contained  a  curtained  bee 


ihite  and  perfectly  clean,  a 


2P4 


AT   HOME   AND   AUROAD. 


^-I- 


table  upon  wl.ich  lay  a  number  of  books,  a  lookintr.glass,  a 
n:.sl,.l,c,ul  ;i„,l  a  pitcher  of  stone-ware,  with  a  fine  linen 
towel,  combs,  brushes,  soap,  and  all  ordinary  appliances  of 
lli«'  toilet.     iCverythinrr  i„  the  room  was  scrupulously  neat, 
:m.l    arranjnred  v  jti,  a  knowledge  and  propriety  which  I 
sliould  never  have  expected  to  find  in  such  a  place.    Among 
the  books  wore  Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe's  "Suni.y  Memories," 
Chambers's  "Information  for  the  People,"  and  some  novel's, 
besides  a  large  family  Bible.     I  was  so  tired  that  I  imme- 
diately tumbled  into  bed  and  slept  so  sou.^dly  that  when  I 
awoke  at  five  in  the  morning   I  had   some  difficulty  in 
ascertaining  where  I  was.    Genge,  who  was  already  stirring, 
accompanied  me  to  Butt's,  where  I  found  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Sayre,  whose  experience  was  similar  to  mine.    They  had 
been  received  with  the  same  kinduess,  and  treated  to  the 
same  unexpected  comforts.     Our  hosts  refused  to  accept 
the   slightest   compensation,   and   we   were   only  able  to 
rei.ay  them  indirectly,  by  engaging  them  to  row  us  out  to 
the  steamer. 

The  people  of  Port-aux-Basques  are  unusual  specimens 
of  ripe  and  healthy  physical  vigor,  and  they  possess  thoso 
simple  virtues  which  naturally  be'ong  to  such  an  organiza- 
lion.  Though  their  education  is  very  deficient,  thoy  are 
shrewd  and  quick-witted  ;  open  and  trustful  unlet  dt  -  ,"ivt>d, 
when  th'>y  become  excessively  suspicious ;  generous,  honest,' 
hospitable,  and  enduring;  remarkably  free  from  immorality 
and  crime  notwithstanding— perhaps  on  account  of— their 
distance  from  efficient  legal  authorities ;  and  I  do  not  know 
any  other  cormunity  which  surpasses  them  in  sterling 
manly  n-ialities.     They  are  not  only  very  healthy  but  very 


A  TBLBORAFUIC  TKIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAXD. 


295 


1 


prolific ;  and  tho  place,  like  many  others  on  the  coast,  h.is 
grown  up  almost  entirely  from  the  natural  increase  of  tho 
first  families  who  settled  there.     This  accounts  for  the  fact 
that  the  population  of  the  fishing  villages  on  the  southern 
and  western  sides  of  the  island  are  nearly  all  related  to 
each  other.     I  heard  it  stated  that  in  some  of  the  remote 
settlements  which  began  with  a  single  family,  the  brothers 
and  sisters  formed  incestuous  marriages ;  but  I  was  glad  to 
hear  this  story  positively  denied  afterwards.     The  inter- 
course between  the  fishing-jwrts  is  carried  on  almost  entirely 
by  sea,  on  account  of  the  rugged  character  of  the  land- 
travel.    There  is  a  communication  in  winter  between  Port- 
aux-Basquos  and  St.  George's   bay,  over  the  Cape  Hay 
highlands ;  but  it  is  very  rarely  travelled  by  any  except  the 
Indians— a  branch  of  the  Micraac  tribe,  who  have  emi- 
grated hither  from  Cape   Breton.     The   diitance   across 
is  about  sixty  miles,  which  they  travel  occasionally  in  two 
days. 

The  Victoria,  which  had  returned  in  the  night,  brought 
word  that  a  place  had  been  selected  just  inside  of  Cape 
Ray  as  the   starting-poiijt   of  the   submarine  cable,   the 
materials   for   a   house    landed,    and   the    frame    already 
erected.    A  deep  cove  in  the  harbor  of  Port-aux-Bascpies 
was  at  first  cliosen,  on  account  of  its  sheltered  situation, 
and  the  circumstance  of  the  cable  falling  at  once  into  deep 
water ;  but  as  Cape  Ray  was  three  or  four  miles  nearer 
Cape  Breton,  Mr.  Field  and  Mr.  Canning  went  thither  in  a 
boat  on  Monday,  and  fixed  upon  a  spot  at  the  head  of  Cape 
Ray  harbor,  where  there  was  a  beach  of  soft  sand  some- 
what guarded  from  the  ice  which  lodges  here  in  great 


296 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


!    • 


ii-\ 


quantities  during  the  winter  and  spring,  by  groups  of 
locks  on  both  sides.    The  next  day  the  frame  and  'complete 
materials  for  a  house  were  taken  up  by  the  Victoria,  toge- 
ther with  a  number  of  passengers  who  offered  themselves 
as  amateur  carpenters.     On  reaching  the  bay  the  timbers 
wore  lashed  together  as  a  raft  and  towed  near  the  shore, 
where,  on  account  of  the  violence  of  the  surf,  it  parted, 
leaving  Captain  S'uyter  and  two  or  three  others,  who  were 
on  it,  to  float  to  the  beach  on  the  pieces.     The  boat's  load 
of  passengers  succeeded  in  landing,  and  immediately  went 
to  work  in  company  with  the  fishermen  of  the  place  and 
their  dogs  to  rescue  the  thnbers.     Boards,  beams,  rafters 
and  bundles  of  shingles  were  caught  and  dragged  out  of 
the  surf;  and  in  the  course  of  two  or  three  hours  all  the 
materials   >f  the  raft  were  got  ashore.     In  this  work  the 
dogs  rendered  capital  service — plunging  boldly  into  the  sea 
and  seizing  upon  every  stick  which  they  could  manage. 
Sometimes  two  of  them  would  take  a  plank  between  them, 
and,  Avatching  the  proper  moment  with  a  truly  human 
sagacity,  bring  it  to  the  beach  on  the  top  of  a  breaker  and 
tliere  delivci-  it  into  the  hands  of  their  masters.     It  was 
really   wonderful   to   behold  the   strength,   courage,   and 
industry  of  these  poor  beasts,  who,  when  but  few  frag- 
Mients  were  left,  fought  savagely  for  the  possession  of  them, 
and  even  tried  to  drown  each  other. 

By  night,  with  the  assistance  of  the  people,  the  frame  of 
the  house  was  raised,  and  the  Victoria  returned  to  Port- 
aux-Basques.  She  started  again  the  next  day  at  noon,  with 
Mr.  Field  and  another  company  of  amateur  carpenters  on 
boaid,  leaving  the  James  Adgor  to  follow  with  the  bark  in 


A   TKLEGKAPHIC  TRIP   TO  NEWFOUNDLAND.  297 


I 


tow  as  soon  as  the  weather  would  allow.     While  waiting 
on  board  the  Victoria  I  witnessed  the  performance  of  some 
of  the  Cape  Ray  dogs,  two  of  which  were  on  board.     If  a 
stick  was  thrown  into  the  water,  they  would  spring  over 
the  rail,  seize  it,  swim  around  the  vessel  or  chase  other 
floating  objects,  until  some  one  let  down  the  bight  of  a  rope 
over  the  side,  when  the  dog  would  immediately  make  for 
it,  place  both  fore-paws  over  it,  thrust  his  head  forward  and 
hold  on  until  he  was  drawn  upon  deck.  .  One  of  these  dogs 
had  followed  the  Victoria's  boat  the  day  previous  and  was 
taken   on   board.     This   little    circumstance    produced   a 
marked  change  in  the  temper  of  the  inhabitants  of  Cape 
Ray.    They  became  shy,  suspicious,  and  reserved;    and 
nothing  but  the  explicit  declaration  of  Mr.  Field— which 
M-as  afterwards  carried  into  effect— that  the  dog  should  be 
returned  or  his  full  value  paid  the  owner,  restored  their 
confidence. 

We  ran  up  the  coast,  passed  Grand  Bay,  the  embouchure 
of  the  stream  on  which  we  had  encamped,  and  in  an  hour 
and  a  half  came  to  in  front  of  the  six  or  eight  fishermen's 
huts  which  constitute  the  settlement  of  Cape  Ray.     I  found 
that  the  lofty  isolated  peak  which  I  had  taken  to  be  the 
Cape  Itself  was  four  or  five  miles  inland,  separated  from  tho 
po'nt  by  a  low,  undulating  promontory  covered  with  dense, 
stunted   woods.     Two   other  i)eaks   aj)peared,   retreating 
along  the  .vestern  coast,  and  behind  them  all  towered  the 
dark  Cape  Highlands,  twelve  hundred  feat  in  height.     Wo 
were  carried  ashore  in  the  Victoria's  boat,  and  landed  at 
the  head  of  a  little  cove  where  the  boats  of  the  fishermen 
were  pulled  up  ui   front  of  their  huts,  after  whicli   tho 

13* 


■  It  iiii—mwj  P-SjwrtMifa  i'miH*.ff>.-VM 


li: 


2&8  AT  HOMB  AifD  ABROAD. 

Steamer  returned  to  Port-aux-Basques  to  assist  in  bringing 
up  the  bark. 

Following  a  rough,  boggy  path  along  the  shore,  some- 
times on  the  brink  of  black  cliffs  overhanging  the  breakers, 
a  walk  of  a  mile  conducted  us  to  the  new  telegraph-building 
on  a  grassy  knoll  near  the  head  of  the  bay.     We  found  all 
the  male  population  of  the  place  employed  in  completing  it, 
under  thv3  direction  of  old  Tapp,  the  patriarch  of  the  fish- 
ennen,  and  a  Cape  Ray  carpenter.     Some  were  nailing  on 
clapboards,  others  shingling  the  roof,  and  others  digging  a 
trench  from  the  front  of  the  house  to  the  beach,  while 
planks,  beams,  bundles  of  shingles,  boxes,  and  carpenters' 
tools  were  scattered  around  on  all  sides.     Our  first  thcuo'ht 
Mas  for  dinner,  as  we  had  taken  the  precaution  to  carry  a 
box  of  provisions  with  us.     Seated  on  the  shingles,  with  the 
fresh  sea-breeze  blowing  over  us,  and  the  keen  edge  of  our 
sea-appetites  not  in  the  least  blunted,  the  cold  beef-steak, 
•ed  herring,  pilot-bread,  and  other  delicacies  rapidly  dis- 
appeared.     But  we  were  soon  summoned  to  work  ;  and  the 
spectacle  we  presented  would  have  afforded  great  amuse- 
nieut  to  some  of  our  Xew  York  friends.    Mr.  Field,  spade 
in  hand,  led  the  ditching  i^arty ;  Dr.  Spring,  with  his  coat 
otr  and  a  handkerchief  tied  around  his  head,  was  hard  at 
work  sawing  out  spaces  for  windows ;  Dr.  Sayre,  mjself, 
and  two  or  three  others,  nailed  on  layer  after  layer  of  shin- 
gles ;  and  of  the  rest,  some  took  to  flooring,  others  to  clap- 
boarding,  and  others  to  making  frames  for  batteries.     We 
iiH.l  but  a  single  accident— a  scaffold  fell,  and  one  of  the 
iishermen,  in  falling  within  it,  barked  his  shins.     All  worked 
uitb.  a  will,  and  by  night  the  roof  was  completed,  the  sides 


r 


A   TELEOKAI'IIIC   TxCIP   TO    NEWFOUNDLAND. 


299 


th 


closed  in,  the  house  floored,  and  a  deep  d^  ..     ^  ,g  down  to 
the  edge  of  the  breakers.    This  ditch  te.    ••ated  in  the 
house,  in  the  centre  of  which  a  circular  pit  was  dug,  and 
the  frame  of  a  liogshead  without  the  headings,  planted  in  it, 
allowing  a  clear  space  about  eighteen  inches  around  it.     A 
wooden  pillar,  buried  six  feet,  was  placed  inside  the  hogs- 
head, which  was  filled  with  earth  rammed  hard— the  whole 
forming  a  sort  of  capstan  or  belaying-post  for  the  cable. 
The  battery  frame  was  also  stayed  against  the  side  of  the 
house,  the  glass  jars  fixed  in  their  appropriate  j.laces,  and 
nothing  was  wanting  but  the  proper  apparatus  to  fit  the 
building  for  immediate  use. 

Mr.  Field,  with  most  of  the  amateurs,  determined  to 
remain  all  night  in  the  building,  and  men  were  dispatched 
to  collect  spruce  boughs  enough  to  turn  the  floor  into  a  bed. 
Dr.  Spring  and  myself,  however,  preferred  trying  one  of 
the  fishermen's  huts,  and  Mr.  Tapp  sent  one  of  hTs  grand- 
sons to  conduct  us  to  his  residence.     We  retraced  our  way 
to  the  cove,  and  were  guided  by  little  Steve  to  the  largest 
hut,  which  was  a  very  small  one,  just  c-posite  the  landing. 
On  entering,  a  woman  of  about  fifty-five,  short,  stout,  with 
gray  eyes,  and  queer,  frizzled,  yellowish  hair,  rose  from  her 
seat  by  the  wide  fireplace.     "Are  you  Mrs.  Tapp?"  I 
asked.     "I'm  Tapp's  wife,"  she  answered,  stretching  forth 
her  hand,  and  when  I  took  it,  bobbing  nearly  to  the  floor 
in  a  respectful  but  grotesque  courtesy.     I  introduced  Dr. 
Spring,  who  was  received  with  a  stiU  deeper  courtesy,  and 
mentioned  Mr.  Tapp's  message  and  our  desire  to  rema:.i 
there  for  the  night.     "To  be  sure,"  said  she,  "you  shall 
stay ;  it's  a  difficult  liouse,  but  such  as  it  is,  you  are  welcome 


300 


AT    HOME   AXD   ABROAD. 


to  it."    There  was  a  tea-kettle  on  the  fire,  and  a  pan  of 
bread  with  a  heap  -^^  live-coals  on  the  lid,  hanging  to  a 
hook.     Tapp's  wife  set  about  prepaiing  t-a,  giving  us, 
meanwhile,  a  variety  of  information  about  herself  and  fa- 
mily.     Her  language  was  very  quaint  and  peculiar,  and  she 
spoke  in  the  short,  quick  way  common  to  some  tribes  of 
Indians.     I  gathered  from  her  words  that  she  had  been 
born  and  raised  on  Codroy  river  (about  thirty  miles  north 
of  Cape  Ray)  ;  that  she  had  five  cows  before  she  left  her 
mother;  that  all  the  cows  and  sheep  in  the  settlement  be- 
longed to  her ;  that  she  had  had  nine  daughters  and  two  sons, 
but  God  Almighty  took  one  of  the  latter  when  he  was  two 
months  old ;  that  she  had  never  been  further  than  Port-aux- 
Basques,  and  thought  it  must  be  a  fine  thing  to  s';c  the 
world.     She  added,  however,  that  she  had  plenty  to  eat 
and  drink,  and  was  well  contented  where  she  was.     Two 
of  her  daughters— great,  shy,  sunburnt,  blowsy  tomboys  of 
fourteen  and  sixteen— came  into  the  house.     "  They  would 
be  good  girls,"  said   she,  "if  they  had  their  rights"— 
meaning  if  they  had  a  chance  to  go  to  school.     I  asked  for 
a  drink  of  water,  and  received  a  bowl  of  a  sepia-colored 
mi-.ture  tasting  of  mud.     "It's  very  dithcult  water,"  said 
the  old  lady,  "and  you'd  better  not  drink  much." 

Presently  she  spread  a  piece  of  painted  oil-cloth  on  the 
1  abks  set  out  some  plates,  cu]>s  bread  and  butter,  took  the 
iL-a-kottle  off  the  fire,  and  in  ted  us  to  sit  down,  sayhig, 
"  If  I  had  anything  better,  y.  i  should  have  it ;  I  can't  do 
no  more  than  that,  you  know."  She  apologized  for  !  - '• 
bread,  assuring  us  that  she  had  very  "  difficult"  flour,  but 
-.:  Ided,  as  if  to  «•  msole  us,  "here  vou  have  a  chaney  dish 


i 


A    TELEGRAPHIC  TRIP   TO   NEAVFOUNDLAND.  301 

and  here  you  have  a  chancy  tea-cup,  only  they  don't  match." 
With  all  her  oddity  nothing  could  be  kinder  than  her  man- 
ner ;  and  her  d;«  H  bread,  and  tea  sweetened  with  molas- 
ses,  had  a  relis)  ne  beyond  what  my  hunger  gave  it. 

We  had  just  finished  our  meal  when  old  Tapi^  appeared, 
accompanied  by  Dr.  Sayre  and  Mr.  Roberts,  who  were 
dispatched  by  the  party  to  procure  a  supply  of  bread  and 
tea.    They  gave  such  an  account  of  the  comfort  of  the 
new  house  with  its  bedding  of  spruce  boughs,  that  Dr. 
Spring  and  myself  were  persuaded  to  return  with  them. 
We  had  not  proceeded  far,  however,  when  the  fishermen 
saw  the  lights  of  a  steamer  off  the  bay,  and  presently  a 
second  light  appeared,  still  more  distant  and  indistinct. 
The  first  steamer  gradually  rounded  in  towards  the  land, 
but  a  light  fog  was  gathering  over  the  water,  and  we  could 
not  make  out  from  her  lights  whether  she  was  the  Adger 
or  the  Victoria. 

Old  Tapp,  supposing  she  was  the  former  vessel,  put  off 
towards  her  in  his  boat,  and  after  some  deliberation  Mr. 
Roberts  and  myself  took  two  of  the  fishermen  and  followed 
him.    The  steamer  was  at  anchor  by  this  time,  and  burning 
blue  lights,  which  were  answered  by  rockets  from  the  vessel 
outside.     She  proved  to  be  the  Victoria,  which  had  run  up 
in  advance  of  the  A.lger,  which  latter  had  the  bark  in  tow. 
It  was  now  nearly  nine  o'clock,  and  the  fog  was  at  times  so 
thick  as  entirely  to  hide  the  Adger's  ligi.ts.     Th     captain, 
finally,  wo-n  out  with  the  day's  labors,  had  Iain  down,  and 
we  were  thinking  of  the  same  thing,  when  the  sound  of 
oars  was  heard,  and  one  of  the  Adger's  boats  drew  along- 
side.    She  had  Mr.  Lowber  on  board,  and  came  for  tire 


no  2 


AT   IIOMK   ANI>    VUUOAD. 


l)iiil)oso  of  taking  out  Captain  Sluyter  to  assist  in  piloting 
tilt'  st(';u:ier  in. 

T  I  inbarkfd  in  tlie  boat  uitli  the  captain,  and  about  ten 
o\lotk  slie  i)ut  oft;  steering  out  to  sea  in  the  supposed 
direction  of  the  steamer,  whose  lights  were  nowhere  to  bo 
seen.    The  water  was  fortunately  smooth,  with  but  a  light 
suoll,  and  the  men  pulled  vigorously  for  nearly  half  an 
hoiir  before  the  quick  eye  of  our  coxswain  could  detoct 
:iiiy  sign  of  light.     Even  then  it  was  immediately  obscured 
ngain  by  the  fog;    and   as  we  were  losing  sight  of  th-> 
A'ittoiia's  lights  by  this  time,  it  was  decided  to  burn  a 
lloman  candle  which  we  had   with  us.     This  was  accom- 
lilished  with  some  difficulty,  for  the  powder  was  damp;  but 
it   i)rocured  us  a  return  signal  and  showed  us  our  true 
course.     Shortly  afterwards  n.  gun  was  fired  on  board  the 
Victoria,   according  to   Captain   Sluytcr's   direction.     In 
another  half-hour  we  seemed  to  be   rapidly  nearing  the 
Adger,  when  she  stood  further  out  again  and  almost  dis- 
appeared from  view.     We  had  now  lost  sight  of  the  shore, 
and  began  to  fear  we  should  have  to  pass  the  whole  night 
on   the  water.    Another  long  and  weary  pull   followed, 
but  we   did  not  feel  entirely  safe  until  within  hail  of  her 
steamer.     The  swell  was  heavy,  and  it  was  with  the  utmost 
difliculty  and  danger  that  we  succeeded  in  getting  upon  the 
gangway  ladde..     Our  men  had  been  obliged  to  pull   a 
distance  of  eight  or  nine  miles,  and  it  was  nearly  midnight 
Avhen  Ave  got  on  deck. 

The  next  day  we  commenced  laying  the  submarine  cable. 
The  end  was  safely  landed  and  secured,  and  by  sunset  we 
!:;:;!  iiiaae  alioiit  forty  miles,  when  a  gale,  which  had  been 


A   TELEGRAPHIC  TRIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAND. 


a  03 


rising  all  day,  blew  so  violently  that  it  was  found  necessary 
to  cut  the  cable  in  order  to  save  the  baik  from  foundering. 
Thus  disastrously  termino*  J  our  expedition,  which,  how- 
ever,  was  repeated  wiih  complete  success  the  following 
summer.  The  next  morning  we  reached  Sydney,  on  Cape 
Breton,  took  on  board  a  fresh  supply  of  coal,  and  then 
returned  to  New  York,  having  been  absent  a  month. 


■■  ■'  I 


XXV. 


IIOLroAYS  IN  SWITZERLAND  AND  ITALY. 


[1856.] 


On  leaving  Germany  for  a  hdiday  tour  of  six  weeks, 
which  we  proposed  extending  as  far  as  Rome,  we  first 
spent  a  day  in  delightful  old  Nuremburg,  and  thence 
hurried  on  by  the  Danube  and  Augsburg  to  Lindau  on  the 
Lake  of  Constance,  which  we  crossed  to  Romanshorn,  and 
so  entered  Switzerland.  There  was  no  call  for  passports, 
no  examination  of  baggage,  and  the  conductors  on  the 
train  to  Zurich,  although  each  one  had  the  word  Sxob  (the 
initials  of  the  German  words  for  "Swiss  North-Easteru 
Railway  ")  on  his  buttons,  Avere  nevertheless  gentlemen, 
and  handsome  as  they  were  courteous. 

We  left  Zurich  in  a  carriage  for  Goldau,  at  the  foot  of 
the  Righi,  in  order  to  ascend  that  fashionable  peak  before 
B.,nset.     While  dinir.g  at  Zug,  I  was  accosted  by  a  Swiss 


nOUDAYS   IN   SWITZERLAND   AND   ITALY.  S05 

guide,  Who  Wished  me  to  take  him  into  my  service.     Now 
I  had  determined  to  take  no  guide  (none  being  necess^Tv) 
unt.1  we  should  reach  the  Furca  Pass ;  but  ihe  minute  I  saw 
the  man  full  in  the  face,  and  looked  into  the  clear  depths 
of  h:s  unwavering  <lark-blue  eyes,  he  had  me  completely  ;n 
lys  power.    I  felt  that  I  must  take  him,  before  his  proposi- 
tion was  half  spoken  ;  yet,  like  a  pruuunt  man  of  the  world 
(a  fool,  rather),  I  l.esitated,  and  bargained,  and  made  con. 
ditions,  all  savoring  of  mistrust,  while  in  reality  I  would 
W  trusted  all   my  worldly  possessions  in  his   hands. 
Why  mur,l  we  ever  distort  our  features  with  these  conven- 
tional  masks  ?     Why  not  say  at  once  :  «  I  know  you  and 
beheve  in  you?"-for  our  natural  instincts  are  a  thousand 
times  truer  than  the  judgment  of  the  world. 

Joseph  being  engaged  (blushing  „p  to  the  roots  of  his 
hmr  as  he  confessed  to  the  knowledge   of  a  few  Alpine 
melodies),  we  pushed     n  to  Goldau,  and  commenced  the 
ascent.     Our  Alpine  luggage,    consisting  of  two  heavy 
portmanteaus,  probably  one  hundred  and  twenty  pounds 
.veight,  was  transferred  to  the  shoulders  of  a  rather  lean 
native,  who  rejoiced  at  the  prospect  of  earning  five  francs 
by  carrying  it  to  the  very  top  of  the  Righi.    It  would  have 
broken  the  back  of  a  New-York  porter  before  the  end  of 
the  first  mile.    Our  Swiss,  however,  reached  the  top  in 
fifteen  minutes  after  us,  and  we  were  less  than  three  hour, 
m  climbing  the  eight  miles.    There  was  no  sunset,  ond  the 
delicious  tones  of  the  Alpine  horn  awoke  us  at  dawn   to 
see  no  sunrise.     We  shivered  on  the  summit  half  an  hour 
to  no  purpose;  many  travellers  went  down  in  disgust,  but 
there  is  no  use  in  losing  one's  temper,  and  we  took  coflee 


306 


AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 


^11 


TIku  wo  went  up  again  and  took  our  station  in  the  cloud. 
Presently  appeared  Joseph,  who  said:  "I  have  seen  sonie- 
iliiiig;  look  that  way,"  pointing  to  the  west,  "and  wait  a 
little."     Soon  there  was  a  gHnimer,  as  of  a  strip  of  oloud 
IiL,'iitc'.l   by  the   sun,  tlien  tlie  vajwrs  parted,  and  for  an 
instant   tlie    wliole   line   of  the   IJerncse   Alp3,   from   the 
Finsteraar-horn  to  the  Jungfrau,  stood  unveiled  in  the  face  of 
luoiniiig.    Horns  of  immaculate  snow,  golden,  clear  flushes 
of  topaz  on  the  frosted  silver  on  the  glaciers— a  moment 
naked  ind  beautiful  as  the  goddesses  on  Mount  Ida,  then 
\  eiled  in  their  floating  cloudy  drai^ery  from  eyes  that  were 
almost  too  weak  to  bear  their  splendors. 

Now  came  the  wind  and  cleared  the  peak,  ar.d  as  ^ar  as 
the  hiils  of  the  Rhine  all  was  mottled  light  and  shadow; 
gleams  of  beryl  from  the  lakes  and  starry  flashing  of  white 
towns,  dots  on  the  distant  blue.  We  had  all  we  came  to 
SCO,  and  more  than  we  had  hoped  for.  Yet  I  met  an 
American,  who  had  stood  on  the  Righi,  on  as  cleai  a  morn- 
ing, and  was  much  disappointed.  "It  was  just  like  a 
painting,"  said  he,  "the  panoramas  you  see  on  exhibition 
are  a  great  deal  finer." 

Our  way  led  up  the  Lake  of  the  Forest  Cantons  to 
Fliiellen  and  Altorf.  Joseph  engaged  a  good  carriage, 
with  a  driver  who  sang;  and,  as  Ave  drove  up  the  valley  of 
the  Reuss  towards  St.  Gothard,  next  day,  the  rocks  echoed 
with  thejodel  lieiler,  and  the  quaint,  naive  i)easant-songs 
of  Switzerland.  Tony  had  a  fine  baritone,  which  harmo- 
nized well  with  the  clanging  mountaineer  tenor  of  Joseph. 
I'lie  melting,  undulating,  horn-like  cadences  of  the  jodel 
; hvjiuses,  heard  hi  the  deep  Alpine  valley,  with  the  roar  of 


HOLIDAYS   IN  SWITZERLAND   AND  ITALY.  307 

the  Reuss  bdow,  and  the  thikling  of  the  musical  herd-bel', 
on  tlio  pa.>ture-8lope8,  were  so  many  strains  of  that  un^^  rit- 
ten  poetry,  for  which  there  are  no  wonls  in  any  language 
One  of  the  songs  hal  the  following  droll  refraii. : 

"What  good  living  i.s,  if  you  would  knov^, 
You  must  straight  unto  my  Jura  go: 
Jura  is  the  prettiest  girl,  you'd  aay, 
If  the  othera  all  had  gone  away." 

At  the  inn  at  Andormatt  we  found  plenty  of  snobs.    The 
landlord  was  a  physician  and  prescribed  for  us,  not  one 
havzng  escaped  a  sprain  or  a  pain.     Joseph  collected  the 
gmdes.  and  towards  ,nidnight  gave  us  a  serenade,  be^in- 
ning  with  the  Ran.  des    Vaches,  accompanied  with  Ihe 
most  wonderful  variations,  all  performed   on  the  human 
voice.     The  performer   was  a  lusty  young  fellow,  who 
drank  too  much  for  his  good,  but  who,  as  he  boasted 
could  make  any  note  he  pleased,  high  or  low.     His  execu- 
tion was  as  mar>elIous  as  Jenny  Lind's,  and  as  full  of 
mountain  echoes. 

Our  route  was  over  the  Furca  Pass,  by  the  glacier  of  the 
Rhone,  the  Grimsel.  and  down  the  valley  of  the  Aar  to 
Meynngon;   then  over  the  Sciieideck,  by  the  Rosenlaui 
glaeier  to  Grindelwald,  and  over  the  Wengern  Alp  to 
Lauterbrunnen  and  Interlacken.     We  had  six  days  amon. 
the  htgh  Alps,  without  a  cloud  in  the  sky-at  most  a  gauz^ 
scarf  of  vapor  floating  around  the  snowy  cones,  to  soften 
the  sharpness  of  their  profiles  on  the  deep  blue  of  the  air. 
We  crept  into  the  ice-caverns  of  the  glaciers,  and  from 
under  their  vaults  of  translucent  sapphire  looked  on  the 


ao8 


AT   HOME   AND   ABUOAD. 


roso-tintcd  foam  of  the  catamcts;   we  saw  the  splendid 

Wittcrl.orii  hanging  over  tl.o  Jark-grecn  fir  forests.;  wo 

listciR'd  to  the  roar  of  avalanrhes  from  the  Jungfrau,  and 

w.itchiHl  their  snow-diist  tui.'biing  a  thousand  feet  down 

till'    precipice,    while  tranquilly  consuming   our  chamois 

ragout  ou  the  Wengern  Alps ;  we  held  our  heads  under 

the   Stauhbach  which   flung  its  waters  upon   us  from  a 

I'oight  of  nine  hundred  feet,  and  wet  our  backs  through 

aii.l  through  ;  we  leaned  over  the  Aar,  whore  it  plunges 

down  the  gorge  of  Handeck,  and  noticed  its  wonderM 

resemblance  to  boiled  cauliflower;   and  finally,  at  Inter- 

lacken,  we  bade  adieu  to  the  Bernese  Alps,  and  to  Joseph, 

froni  whom  we  parted  with  mutual  tears. 

Switzerland  swarmed  with  travellers  this  Summer.    The 
/uountain  passes  were  alive  witli  bro..n  straw  flats,  drab 
skirts,  checked  coats  and  \vide-a\yakes.    Even  at  the  hospice 
oil  the  Griiiisel,  six  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  you  hoard 
the  Engl'on  and  American  languages  rather  than  the  Helve- 
tic Geiman.     Towards  the  close  of  each  day,  there  was  a 
general  stampede  along  the  roads,  in  order  to  l^  first  at 
the  hotel  and  get  the  best  rooms.    The  telegraph,  however, 
luns  across  the  glaciers,  and  our  prudent  guide  always  had 
our  quarters  engaged  two  days  in  advance,  to  the  astonish- 
ment  of  many  tourists  who  took  pains  to  rush  past  us. 
Tiie  expense  is  but  a  franc,  and  I  would  .rdvise  travellers  to 
take  advantage  of  this  improvement  dunng  the  fashionable 
season. 

:My  intercourse  with  the  travelling  crowd  was  mostly 
confined  to  looking  at  them  during  dinner  time.  The  sum 
of  my  observations  was,  that  it  is  best  to  travel  alone, 


I 


nOLIDAYS   IN   8WITZERLAXD   AND   ITALY.  800 

unless  yoii  K.iow  your  cojnprnion  nearly  as  well  as  yoar- 
self;  and  further,  that  it  is  aavisable  to  make  acquaintances 
among  the  natives  of  the  country  you  visit,  rather  than 
amonjr  other  travellers.     Of  the   English  one  meets  in 
S^vltzerlaucl,  one-t-nth  may  prove  agreeable  acquaintances; 
of  the  Americans  and  French,   one-fourth ;   and   of  the 
Gennans,  one-half.    The  principal   toi.ic  of  conversation 
was— not  the  scenery,  but  the  merits  of  different  hotels. 
I  hear  I  a  ruddy  Londoner  gravely  recommend  a  certain 
house  because  the  tea-cups  had  handles  to   them,   and 
another  was  delighted  with  Lucerne  because  he  had  found 
a  good  confectioner's  shop  there.     The  principal  test  of  a 
hotel,  however,  as  I  learned  from  the  confidential  recom- 
mendations of  several  gentlemen,  was  one  of  so  lu  '^crous  a 
character,  that  I  regret  being  unable  to  state  it. 

We  fell  in,  nevertheless,  with  some  very  i)leasant  people, 
end  I  could  not  help  noticing  that  the  English  are  becoming 
more  malleable  and  tractable  of  late  years.    Those  who  had 
cast  Lheir  insular  shell  met  us  with  Continental  freedom  and 
cordiality.      One   experiment   which   I   made  turned   out 
unsuccessfully,  to  my  regret.     Going  down  the  valley  of 
the  Aar,  I  baw  approaching  me  a  German  gentleman  and 
lady,  followed  at  a  little  distance  by  an  English  party.     I 
bowed  to  the  former,  and  was  repaid  by  a  ready  and 
gracious  acknowledgment.     I  then  repeated  the  process 
to  the  English  ladies,  who  deliberately 

"Gorgonized  mo  from  head  to  foot 
"With  a  stony  British  stare." 

Many  American  ladies,  let  me  ccnfess,  would  have  done 


ind 


010 


AT   HOJrE   AND   ABROAD. 


the  same  thing.  I  kept  statistics  of  female  politeness  for 
some  months  in  the  Sixth-avenue  cars,  and  found  that  not 
more  than  one  lady  in  twenty  thanked  me  for  giving  up  my 
seat  to  her. 

■^  .1  i  terlacken  we  went  to  Berne  (where  I  was  for- 
tu.,M^  enough  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Fay), 
Freyburg,  and  Vevay.  At  the  latter  place,  as  well  as 
Geneva,  all  the  hotels  were  filled  to  overflowing,  and  we 
had  some  difficulty  in  getting  quarters.  The  cost  of  travel 
in  Europe  is  much  increased  of  late,  partly  by  the  increase 
of  travellers,  and  partly  by  the  rise  in  the  price  of  provisions. 
I  was  glad  to  find,  however,  that  there  are  fewer  attempts 
at  extortion  than  formerly ;  the  hotel  business  is  systema- 
tized and  regulated,  and  the  rates,  though  high,  are  tolera- 
bly tmifbrm  all  over  the  Continent— so  that,  if  a  traveller 
suffers  serious  imposition,  it  is  probably  owing  to  his  own 
carelessness  or  verdancy. 

On  entering  the  valley  of  Chamouni  I  recognised  the 
rocks  of  the  Grand  Mulcts,  just  under  the  eaves  of  the 
clouds  which  concealed  the  dome  of  Mont  Blanc,  from 
their  resemblance  to  Albert  Smith's  panorama;  but  an 
English  tourist,  familiar  with  the  valley,  declared  that  I 
was  mistaken.  I  appealed  to  a  sun-burnt,  grizzly-headed 
old  follow,  who  was  walking  beside  us.  "They  are  the 
Grand  Mulcts,"  said  he,  "and  I  ought  to  know,  for  I  have 
been  fourteen  times  on  the  top  of  Mont  Blanc."  He  was 
the  noticed  guide  Coutet.  At  the  hotel,  a  limping  waiter 
showed  us  to  our  rooms.  "I  have  just  come  down  from 
]Mont  Blanc,"  lie  said  apologetically,  "  and  am  very  tired 
;ind   sore."    lie  had   employed   the  greater  part  of  his 


HOLIDAYS   IX  SWITZERI.VXD   AND   ITALY.  311 

Summer's  earnings  in  hiring  two  guides,  with  whom  ho 
had  gone  as  far  as  the  Rochers  Rouges,  only  ..-  hour's 
journey  from  the  s.nnmit,  when  they  were  driven  back  by 
a  furious  storm.     Nothing  daunted,  he  had  made  up  his 
mmd  to  try  again  so  soon  as  the  weather  should  be  favor- 
able.    Such  is  the  fascination  of  the  mighty  Mountain. 
JV  e  had  bad  weather,  and  only  succeeded  in  crossing  the 
Mer  de  Glace,  from  Chapeau  to  Montanvert,  where  we 
waited  twenty-four  hour.,  in  a  snow-storm,  intending  to 
push  on  to  the  Jardm,  a  spot  of  green  in  the  midst  of 
eternal  ice,  ten  thousand  feet  above  the  sea;  but  we  were 
compelled  to  give  it  up.     Crossing  the  pass  of  the  Tete 
Noire  to  Martigny,  we  took  the  diligence  over  the  Simplon 
and   descended   to  Lago  Maggiore   on  the   second  day. 
Except  the  gorge  of  Gondo,  on  the  Italian  side,  which,  for 
picturesque  effect,  is  one  of  the  finest  things  in  the  Alps 
the  Simplon  road  is  less  striking  than  that  over  the  St! 
Gothard.     In  one  respect,  however,  it  should  be  prefer-ed 
by  those  who  cross  the  Alps  for  the  first  time-the  transi- 
tion  from  Swiss  to  Italian  scenery  is  sudden  and  complete. 
A  few  miles  of  bare,  rocky  defile,  and  you  exchange  the  fir 
for  the  chestnut,  mulberry,  and  fig-the  mountain  chalet  for 
the  vine-covered  verandas  of  the  bright  southern  country 
houses. 

My  holiday  time  was  getting  short,  and  I  could  only 
indulge  my  companions  with  a  flying  trip  through  Italy. 
We  spent  a  day  in  Milan,  and  then  set  out  in  a  heavy  rain 
for  Venice.  Radetzky,  with  his  staff,  left  at  the  same  time 
for  Verona,  and  at  Coccaglio,  where  we  waited  an  hour  for 
the  tram  from  Brescia,  we  came  together.    The  old  Marshal 


312 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


I 


aii.l  his  company  took  possession  of  the  refreshment  room, 
keeping  the  rest  of  us,  who  were  very  hungry,  out  of  it 
until  they  had  finished.  Nothing  could  have  been  more 
politely  done.  The  guav^.s  begged  our  pardon,  asked  us 
as  a  special  favor  not  to  go  in,  and  admitted  us  even  before 
Kadetzky  had  retired.  I  looked  at  the  old  veteran  vith 
much  interest.  He  was  then  upwards  of  ninety,  yet  still 
performed  his  duties  as  Military  Governor  of  Austrian  I<aly. 
He  had  at  length  been  obliged  to  give  up  his  horse,  and 
reviewed  his  troops  in  an  open  carriage.  He  w^as  a  short, 
thick-set  man,  walked  rather  slowly,  but  firmly,  and  had  a 
face  full  of  vitality.  His  short  white  1.  ir,  thick  white 
jp.ustache,  heavy  brows,  prominent  cheek-bones  and  square 
jaws,  gave  him  the  j^recise  expression  of  an  old  bull-terrier. 
Such  courage,  resolution,  and  unyielding  tenacity  of  purpose 
I  never  saw  in  an  old  man's  face  before.  If  he  got  his  teeth 
set  once  you  might  be  sure  he  would  hold  on.  Such  a  man 
was  Carvajal,  Pizarro's  magnificent  old  warrior. 

In  Venice  we  had  four  cloudless  days,  and  four  nights  in 
a  gondola,  under  the  full  moon.  Such  days  and  nights  are 
dreams,  and  my  return  to  Padua  was  the  awaking  upon  a 
dull  reality.  The  vineyarus  on  the  road  to  Bologna  were 
purple  Avith  abundant  grapes,  for  there  was  a  vintage  in 
Italy,  for  the  first  time  in  five  years.  The  disease  of  the 
vine  appears  to  be  gradually  disappearmg,  like  that  of  the 
potato,  and  these  two  invaluable  plants  are  now  healthy, 
Avith  few  exceptions,  throughout  Europe.  Tlie  failure  of 
the  vintage  for  so  many  years  had  greatly  impoverished  the 
Italian  people.  Wine  had  risen  to  full  five  times  its  former 
price,  and  was  withal  so  bad  that  one  could  scarcely  diink 


H0UDAY8   IN  SWITZERLAND   AND   ITALY.  313 

it.  Montefiascone  and  Montepulciano  wholly  \,elied  their 
old  renown,  and  those  who  tasted  the  golden  Orvieto 
could  not  understand  why  it  should  have  been  so  praised 

We  had  a  week  in  Florence.  I  saw  much  of  my  old 
friend  Powers,  who  was  dividing  his  time  between  Art  and 
Invention.  His  statue,  La  P...serosa,  which  is  now  in  the 
possession  of  Mr.  James  Lenox,  was  nearly  finished.  It 
IS  thoroughly  Miltonic,  and  I  don't  know  what  more  I 
could  say.    The  face  is  uplifted,  abstracted, 

"  With  looks  commercing  with  the  skiea, 
The  rapt  soul  sitting  in  her  eyes-" 

the  figure  large  and  majestic,  with  a  sweeping  train,  partly 
held  m  one  hand,  as  she  moves  slowly  forward.  In  many 
respects  it  is  Powers's  best  work,  though  it  may  not  be  so 
popular  as  his  "  California." 

^    We  hastened  on  to  Rome,  although  it  was  rather  early 
m  the  season.    My  companions,  however,  had  little  fear  of 
either  fever  or  robbers,  and  so,  after  ten  years  of  absence 
I  acted  as  their  cicerone  through  churches,  palaces,  and 
ruins.    I  saw  little  change  in  Rome  since  1846,  except 
along  the  Appian  Way,  where  many  new  exhumations  have 
been  made,  and  a  num.ber  of  glaring  tablets,  headed  with 
Pms  IX.  Pont.  Max.,"  inserted  L-  the  venerable  fronts  of 
Roman  baths  and  amphitheatres.    There  was  also  a  tablet 
m  St.  Peter's,  on  the  left  of  the  Apostle's  Chair,  commemo- 
rating the  sublir- .  absurdity  of  the  Immaculate  Concep- 
tion.    Oh,  Pio  Nono!  you  are  as  vam  as  you  are  weak, 
and  we  who  once  respected  you  can  now  only  pity  von 
On  the  evening  of  our  departure, 


14 


Pope  drove  past  our 


-iS-uiSL. 


^^^m^^m 


314  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

hotel  in  his  carriage.  We  leaned  out  of  the  dining-room 
■••indows,  looked  in,  aid  received  his  benediction.  He  has 
a  kind,  .iniiable,  grandmotherly  old  face,  and  his  blesning 
could  do  no  harm.  Poor  man !  I  think  he  means  well, 
but  he  is  in  Antonelli's  uvil  hands,  and  Rome,  which  had  a 
iransi?  it  sunrise  during  the  first  years  of  his  Pontificate,  is 
now  sunk  in  as  blind  a  night  as  ever. 

My  respect  for  the  Roman  people  is  increased,  by  com- 
paring them  with  the  Florentines,  who  are  an  impersona- 
tion of  all  that  is  mean  and  corrupt.  There  is  honor  and 
virtue  to  be  found  among  the  Tuscan  peasants,  I  doubt  not, 
but  for  the  bourgeoisie  of  Florence  one  can  have  no  feeling 
but  that  of  utter  loathing  and  contempt.  No  lady  can 
■•.valk  alone  in  Florence  without  being  grossly  insulted,  and 
even  in  a  carriage,  with  a  gentleman's  protection,  she  must 
run  the  gauntlet  of  a  thousand  insolent  starers.  Tho  faces 
of  the  youths  express  a  precocious  depravity,  and  the  blear- 
eyed  old  men  show  iu  every  wrinkle  the  records  of  a 
debauched  and  degraded  life.  There  is  no  help  for  such 
a  people ;  they  are  slaves,  and  deserve  to  be  so. 

But  of  all  cheering  signs  c^  progress  in  Europe,  there  is 
none  so  truly  encouraging  as  the  present  condition  of  Sar- 
dinia. I  passed  through  the  country  first  in  August,  1845, 
and  now,  in  October,  1856,  I  returned  to  witness  what  had 
been  done  in  those  eleven  years.  Then,  Sardinia  Avas 
scarcely  in  advance  of  Tuscany,  and  her  material  develop- 
ment seemed  to  be  at  a  stand-still.  Now,  nearly  500  miles 
of  railroad  were  in  operation,  her  commerce  had  been 
doubled,  her  productive  industry  vastly  increased,  her  agri- 
culture fostered  and  improved,  and — best  of  all — she  has  a 


"^^-^-"'^^^^^^^ 


H0UDAY8   IN  SWrrZERLAND   AND   ITALY.  3I5 

liberal  Constitution,  an  enlightened  and  energetic  Govei-n 
ment,  and  a  happy  and  hopeful  people.     From  Genoa  to 
Tur.n    along  the  old  road  whe.e  I  then  walked  in  dust 
through  sleepy  villages,  all  is  now  activity  and  animation. 
Kew  houses  have  been  built,  new  fields  ploughed,  bare  moun- 
ain-s.des  terraced  and  planted  with  vine,  new  mills  bestride 
the  Idle  streams,  and  a  thrifty  and  industrious  population 
are  at  work  on  .11  sides.    Sardinia  has  set  a  noble  example 
to  the  other  Italian  States,  and  her  success  is  the  surest 
basis  for  the  future  independence  of  Italy. 

As  King  Victor  Emmanuel  was  not  at  home,  we  were 
freely  adnutted  into  his  palace  at  Turin,  even  the  private 
apartments  being  thrown  open  to  us.    Turin  Is  a  stately 
and  beautiful  city,  although  it  contains  little  to  attract  the 
traveller.     We  were  olliged  to  wait  two  days  before  we 
could  obtam  places  in  the  diligence  for  Chambery.     The 
passage  of  Mont  Cenis  was  made  by  night;  we  had  a  snow 
storm  on  the  summit,  where  we  found  a  diligence   over- 
turned and  the  passengers  scattered  about,  but  more  fright- 
ened than  hurt.      Our  diligence  (the  French)  raced  the 
whole  day  with  one  of  the  Sardinian  line,  so  that  we  ave- 
raged  nme  or  ten  mUes  an  hour,  and  thundered  along  the 
beautiful  valleys  of  Savoy  to  Chambery,  in  much  less  than 
the  usual  time.    The  next  day  we  returned  to  Geneva,  via 
Aix  and  the  Lake  of  Annecy  (see  Rousseau's  »  Confessions  » 
and  Lamartine's  "Raphael"),  through  one  of  the  loveliest 
regions  in  Europe. 

I  had  an  interesting  interview  on  my  return  from  Lau- 
sanne to  Gotha.  At  Bale  the  diligences  from  J^eufchatel 
and  Berne  came  together  at  the  railroad  station,  and  their 


i 


316 


AT  HOME  AND   ABROAD. 


respective  passengeis  were  deposited  in  the  cai-s  for  Heidel- 
berg and  Frankfort.  We  found  ourselves  in  the  company 
of  three  strangers,  one  of  whom  immediately  attracted  my 
notice.  He  was  a  slender  man,  about  thirty-five  years 
old,  with  fc'rok  eyes  and  beard,  and  a  pale  yellow  complex- 
ion. He  spoke  German  with  perfect  correctness,  but 
slowly,  and  addressed  me  in  very  tolerable  English  ;  yet 
I  could  not  fix  upon  his  nationality. 

I  happened  casually  to  speak  of  Venice,  when  he  stated 
that  he  had  just  come  thence.  He  then  mentioned  Corfu, 
and  we  compared  our  impressions  of  that  island  ;  then  of 
the  Grecian  isles,  then  of  Lebanon,  and  the  Syrian  shores. 
"I  know  Syria  very  well,"  said  I,  "from  Jerusalem  to 
Aleppo."  "  So  do  I,"  said  he.  "  I  travelled  from  Aleppo 
through  Asia  Minor  to  Constantinople,"  I  continued. 
"And  I,"  he  rejoined,  "went  from  Aleppo  to  Nineveh, 
down  the  Tigris  to  Baghdad,  and  thence  to  Bombay."  "  I 
also  vLsited  Bombay,"  I  said,  "travelled  inland  to  the 
Himalayas,  and  down  the  Ganges  to  Calcutta."  "Just 
the  route  I  followed,"  he  again  replied.  "  But,"  I  re- 
marked, "  there  are  few  Germans  who  travel  so  exten- 
sively as  you."  "  It  is  true,"  said  he,  "  that  few  German 
travellers  visit  India,  but  there  are  several  German  mis- 
sionaries stationed  there."  "I  have  heard  of  one,"  I 
answered—"  Dr.  Sprenger,  who  has  written  a  most  admi- 
rable life  of  Mohammed."  "  Why  1 "  he  exclaimed,  in 
mingled  surprise  and  delight,  "  I  am  Dr.  Sprenger  !  " 

I  regretted  that  I  could  spend  but  six  hours  in  the 
society  of  so  estimable  a  man,  and  so  thorough  a  scholar. 
He  was    returning    home  from   an  absence  of  thirteen 


F?"S."^'i?.i3:-~;J^^?y5>--     J-' 


UOLIDAYS   IN  SWrrZKRLAND   AIO>  ITALY.  317 

years  in  India,  bringing  with  him  a  quantity  of  rare  and 
valuable  Arabic  manuscripts.    He  had  passed  a  year  at 
Damascus,  where  he  had   many  opportunities  of  making 
acquamtances  among  the  desert  Arabs,  and  i  was  gratified 
to  find  that  we  entirely  agreed    in   our  estimate  of  the 
character  of  that  noble  race  of  men.    lie  was  fortunate 
enough  to  get  possession  of  a  geographical  work  of  the 
fourth  or  fifth  century,  a  work  of  exceeding  value  and 
importance,  which  he  intended  to  translate  and  publish 

On  landing  at  Trieste,  Dr.  Sprenger  was  gravely  informed 
by  the  authorities  that  his  collection  of  Arabic  MSS  must 
be  submitted  to  the  inspection  of  the  Censor,  before  he 
could  be  permitted  to  retain  possession  of  them.     «  Why  ?" 
he   remonstrated,    « J.ey  are   Arabic."     "So  much  the 
worse,"  said  the  officer;  St  is  the  more  probable  that  they 
are  msidious  and  revolutionary."  "But,"  he  again  urged, 
"  the  Censor  cannot  read  them."    «  That  is  unfortunate'for 
you,"  was  the  answer:  «  you  will  have  to  wait  until  we  find 
a  man  who  can,  for  there  is  no  knowing  what  dangerous 
sentnnents  may  be  concealed  under  these  hieroglyphics  » 
And  so  the  traveller  was  obliged  to  part  with  his  treasures 
until  the  sublimely  stupid  Austrian  Government  shaU  be 
convmced  that  there  is  no  treason  in  the  heroics  of  Antar 
or  the  word-jugglery  of  Hariri  of  Bosrah. 


I 


XXVI. 


A  GERMAN  HOME. 


GoTHA  is  one  of  the  quietest  towTis  in  Germany,  but  it  would 
be  difficult  to  find  a  pleasanter  one.    It  ia  built  on  the 
undulating  table  land  at  the  foot  of  the  Thtiringian  hills, 
1,000  feet  above  the  sea,  whence  its  climate  is  rather  cold 
for  Germany,  but  very  bracing  and  healthy.     A  tourist  is 
an  unusual  sight  there,  and  therefore  one  finds  the  old 
heartiness  and  simplicity  of  German  home-life  in  aU  its 
purity.    As  it  is  one  of  the  court  residences  of  the  Duke  of 
Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,  there  is  a  3mall  but  intelligent  and 
refined  circle,  some  of  the  members  of  which  have  a  Euro- 
pean  reputation  in  their  departments  of  science  and  art. 
Hansen,  the  astronomer,  and  Dr.  Petermann,  the  geographer, 
both  of  whom  reside  here,  are  also  well  known  m  America.' 
Here  came  Earth  in  the  summer  of  1856  to  recruit  from 
his  African  travels;  and  most  of  the  explorers,  of  whose 
labors  Perthes,  the  renowned  map-publipher,  makes  such 


^^'^^^^■^^^- '^ 


A   GERMAN    HOME. 


319 


good  use,  may  be  seen  here  from  time  to  time.  Gerstacker, 
BodensteJt,  the  author  of  the  "Thousand  and  One  Days  in 
the  Orient,"  Gustav  Freitag,  Alexander  Zeigler,  and  other 
German  authors,  hover  about  here  tlirough  the  summer, 
and  in  the  neighboring  village  of  Friedrichisroda  the  brother! 
Grimm  sometimes  make  their  abode. 

The  home  which  German  friendship  has  provided  for  me 
here,  is  in  entire  harmony  with  the  character  of  the  place. 
The  little  garden-house  (inhabited  only  by  Braisted  and 
myself)  fronts  on  the  avenue  of  lindens  leading  into  the 
town,  while  the  rear  overlooks  a  garden  of  three  or  four 
acres  in  extent.     It  was  built  by  one  of  the  Ministers  of 
Duke  Ernest  II.  in  17G0,  when  the  French  style  infected 
Germany,  and  the  steep  bulging  roof  and  quaint  windows 
of  the  upper  half-story  fiintly  remind  one  of  the  chateaux 
of  the  time  of  Louis  XI  \  .    The  same  taste  characterizes 
the  garden.    T'.e  house  stands  on  a  gravelled  terrace,  bor- 
dered  with  flowers,  whence  a  flight  of  stone  steps,  guarded 
by  statues  of  laughing  fauns,  descends  to  a  second  and 
broader  terrace,   in  the   centre   of  which   is  a  spacious 
basin  and  a  fountain  better  than  that  in  the  New  York 
Park,  for  it  plays  day  and  night.     Beyond  this,  a  sloping 
arcade  of  the  dwarf  beech,  trained  so  as  to  form  a  roof  of 
shade,  impervious  to  the  sun,  leads  down  to  the  garden. 
Still  beyond  are  flower-beds  open  to  the  Summer  warmtii, 
a  pool  edged  with  flags  and  lilies,  and  groups  of  trees  stud- 
ding the  smooth  sward  on  either  side. 

An  arch  of  vines  at  the  end  of  the  garden-walk  ushers 
you  into  the  grove,  where  a  Pomona  on  her  pedestal  offers 
samples  of  fruits  which  you  need  not  expect  to  find ;  for  I 


•k^ 


320 


AT   HOME    AND   ABROAD. 


have  none  other  than  forest-trees  here— fir,  oak,  ash,  chest- 
nut, and  beech.    You  would  not  guess  that  the  grove  was 
so  small.    Its  winding  footpaths  arc  led  through  the  thick- 
est shade,  and  the  briery  undergrowth  shoots  up  to  shut 
out  the  patches  of  garden  which   shimmer  through   the 
lowest  boughs.    In  the  centre,  under  venerable  firs,  stands 
a  hermitage  of  bark,  beside  a  fountain  of  delicious  water, 
which  is  surmounted  by  a  triangular  block  of  sandstone, 
erected  by  an  extinct  mason  who  once  possessed  the  pro- 
perty.    This  mason  had  more  money  than  learning :  ne  put 
up  the  stone  as  a  monument  to  his  ancestors,  and  inscribed 
thereon,  as  he  supposed :  "  To  my  Venerable  Forefathers," 
but,  in  fact,  through  his  misspelling :  "  To  my  Venerable 
Trout."     {Fhrellen  instead  of  Vbrdltem.)     Some  or  .  how- 
ever,  has  since  then  engraved  on  the  th.rc  e  sides  of  the 
stone  the  following  words  of  wisdom :  "  Forget  not  Yes- 
terday "— "  Enjoy  To-day  »— »  Unr    tain  is  To-moi .  ow." 

At  the  end  of  the  grove,  on  the  frontier  of  my  domain, 
which  is  shut  in  by  a  hedge  of  fir-trees,  is  «  The  Duke's 
Tree,"  planted  by  the  hand  of  Ernest  11.  Although  nearly 
a  hundred  years  old,  the  trunk  is  not  more  than  a  foot  in 
diameter,  but  the  tree  is  branching  and  shady,  and  throws 
its  boughs  over  the  rustic  seat  and  stone  table,  whereupon 
my  friend  and  I  sometimes  lie  on  our  backs  and  smoke  the 
pipe  of  meditation.  My  friend's  garden  adjoins  mine,  and 
there  is  no  fence  between  us ;  so  that  I  can  walk  from  my 
hermitage  directly  into  his  stables  and  inspect  his  thirty 
stall-fed  cows,  and  his  pens  of  high-born  English  swine. 
Beyond  our  joint  territory,  a  rich  banker  has  his  garden, 
and  his  fountain  (which,  by  the  force  of  money,  spouts  ten 


A  OEBMAN   HOME. 


821 


feet  higher  than  mine)  is  a  pretty  sight  enough  ovi.'r  tho 
hedge  that  divides  us.     His  garden  terminates  in  an  arti- 
ficial  mound,  covered  with  tall  pines  and  firs,  which  also 
has  its  historic  interost.    JTerc  the  Court  of  Ootha,  aping 
the  grand  sentimenUl  silliness  of  that  of  France,  played  at 
pastoral  life,  and  lordo  and  ladijs,  with  satin  ribbons  on  their 
cook.,   and  flowers  in  their  hair,  gave  themselves  such 
names  as  Corydon,  and  Doris,  and  Alexis,  and  Chloe,  and 
tended  sheep,  and  ate  curds,  and  played  flutes,  and  danced, 
and  sang,  and  looked  languishingly  and  amorously  at  c»'ch 
other;   but  always  returned  to  beer  and  sausages,  cards 
and  scandal  every  eveninn^.     They  even  built  a  pastoral 
village  of  thirteen  houses,  which  has  long  since  disappeared, 
and  instituted   a  Court  :)f  Love  on   the  summit  of  the 
mound,  where  Phillis  was  tried  for  sligh     ^  the  passion  of 
Amyntor,  or  Florian  for  his  faithlessness  to  Melissa.     It  is 
difficult,  in  our  day,  to  imagine  the  possibility  of  such  in- 
efiable  absurdities. 

My  own  room,  under  the  steep  French  roof  of  the  gar- 
den-house,  was  once  the  studio  of  a  sculptor,  to  whose 
hand,  I  believe,  I  am  indebted  for  the  six  thinly-clad  statues 
which  stand  in  my  garden.  The  laughing  tauns  are  jolly 
and  good-humored  enough,  as  they  stan  '  listening  to  the 
plash  of  the  fountain,  but  Venus  Anadyjmene,  down  in 
the  grove,  leaves  one  to  infer  that  the  artis  ,  did  not  mingle 
in  the  most  reputable  society.  So  oddly  are  things  man- 
aged in  this  place  that,  although  I  live  just  between  the 
palaces  of  the  reigning  Duke  and  the  Dowager  Duchess,  both 
within  a  stone's  throw,  I  hear  the  noises  of  the  farm-yard 
every  morning,  and  listen  all  day  to  the  measured  beat  of 

14* 


a 


^'^  AT  HOME  AJTO  ABROAD. 

the  flails  on  a  threshing-floor  across  tho  way.  The  dili- 
gence to  Coburg  rattles  past  every  afternoon,  and  the  pos- 
tilion  blows  me  a  merry  hunting-song  on  his  horn;  some- 
times  wagc-s  come  in  from  the  fields  laden  with  turnips  or 
ij  potatoes,  but  other  noises  I  rarely  hear,  and  fi-om  ray  win- 

j  dows  I  see  little  except  trees  j.nd  garden-walks.    The  Duke 

i  is  at  present  chamois-hunting  in  the  Tyrol,  the  theatre  is  not 

yet  opened,  and  the  only  recent  excitement  has  been  the 
arrival  of  four  hundred  oysters  from  Ostend.    They  came 
I  one  evening,  and  by  noon  the  next  day  they  were  not. 

The  Castle  of  Friedenstcin,  on  the  summit  of  the  hill  on 
which  the  town  leans,  is  the  old  residence  of  the  Dukes  of 
Gotha,  before  the  union  of  this  Duchy  with  that  of  Coburg. 
It  is  a  massive,  imposing  pile,  forming  three  sides  of  a 
quadrangle,  open  to  the  south,  and  looking  across  twelve 
miles  of  grain  and  turnip  fields,  to  the  waving  blue  line  of 
the  Thtlringi.an  Forest.      A  residence   no  more,  it  n.w 
contains  a  curious  collection  of  pictures  by  the  old  German 
masters,  a  library  of  one  hundred  and  eighty  thousand 
volum-^s,  an  excellent  museum  of  natural  history,  and  ore 
of  the  best  collections  of  Chinese  and  Japanese  articles  out 
of  Holland.     The  adjoining  park  is  a  noble  piece  of  ground, 
just  sufficiently  neglected  to  make  it  delightful.  *A  few 
footpaths  meander  through  its  groves  of  superb  oak,  fir,  and 
beech  trees,  and  long,  lazy  pools  of  dark  green  water  furnish 
swimming  room  for  some  venerable  swans.     There  is  an 
i8lan<l  in  the  largest  pool,  in  which  lies  the  body  of  Ernest  II. 
who,  nt  his  own  request,  was  buried  there,  in  the  moist 
earth,  without  f  hroud,  coflin,  or  headstone.    The  parks  and 
gardens   are   open   day   and   night   to   everybody,  and   I 


A   tlUUMAN    HOME. 


323 


felt  as  much  right  of  possession  thcrt-in  as  the  oldest  mha- 
bitant. 

The  Jahrmarkt,  or  Anuuul  Fair,  is  held  here  in  October, 
and   draws   together  crowds  of  the  peasantry  from  the 
surrounding  villages.    Tho  Fair  itself  is  insignificant,  com- 
pared with  what  I  h«vo  seen  in  the  larger  German  cities, 
but  I  found  it  interesting   to  watch   the  jolly  peasa.-.d 
who    hovered   around    the    booths,   and   bought   glaring 
handkerchiefs,  immense  pipes.  Winter       os,  dream-books, 
and  " Kinaldo  Rinaldini,"  or  "The  four  toons  of  Ilaymon." 
They  are  a  strong,  sturdy,  ruddy  race— a  little  too  purely 
animal,  to  be  sure,  but  with  a  healthy  dvcinina  which  is  not 
often  seen  among  our  restless  American  people.     The  girls, 
in  particular,  are  as  fresh  as  wild  roses,  with  teeth  which 
can  masticate  tougher  food  than  blancmange,  and  siomachs , 
I  have  no  doubt,  of  equal  digestive  power.    Their  arms  and 
ankles  are  too  thick  and  str     7,  and  their  hands  too  red 
and  hard  for  our  ideas  of  beauty,  '^it  they  are  exempt  from 
a  multitude  of  female  weaknesses,  and  the  human  race  is  not 
deteriorated  in  thci.  children.    They  are  an  ignorant,  honest, 
simple-hearted  race,  and,  although  so  industrious  and  econo- 
mical, are  generous  so  for  as  their  means  allow  them  to  be. 

Lately,  the  field-laborers  on  my  friend's  property  comme- 
morated the  close  of  the  season  by  bringing  hi  n,  according 
to  custom,  an  Lrntekranz  ('.iarvest-wrcath)  of  ripe  rye  and 
barley-stalks,  mixed  with  wild  grasses,  and  adorned  with 
fantastic  strips  of  colored  and  gilded  papers.  This  wreath 
was  formally  delivered  to  the  landlord,  who,  also,  according 
to  custom,  regaled  the  laborers  with  plum  cakes  and  wine. 
Tlicy  passed  the  afternoon  and  evening  in  one  of  the  outer 


? 


324 


AT   HOME   AJfD   ABEOAD. 


r  oms,  settling  their  accounts  and  partaking  of  the  cheer 
after  which  a  gittern  was  brought  forth  and  the  room 
cleared  for  a  dance.    We  had  some  of  the  old  Thflri.gian 
songs,  with  a  chorus  more  loud  than  musical,  and  two-stop 
waltzes  danced  to  the  tinkling  gittern.    I  was  content  to 
be  a  listener  and  looker-on,  but  was  soon  seized  by  the 
strong  hands  of  a  tall  nut-brown  maiden,  and  whirled  into 
the  ranks.    Resistance  was  impossible,  and  at  the  end  of 
five  minutes  I  was  glad  to  beat  a  giddy  retreat. 

I  must  not  close  this  gossip  from  Gotha,  without  refer- 
nng  to   the   map-publishing   establishment    of  Bcrnhard 
Perthes,  whose  productions,  for  thoroughness  and  correct- 
ness,  are  unsurpassed  in  the  world.     I  relied  upon  them  for 
my  guidance  through  Ethiopia,  Asia  Minor,  and  India,  and 
found  them  far  more  perfect  than  any  others.    In  Africa  in 
fact,  I  boldly  ventured  to  contradict  my  guides  whenever 
their  statements  differed  from  my  map,  and  the  result  dways 
justified  me.    Mr.  Perthes  commenced  last  year  the  pub- 
lication of  a  monthly  periodical  entitled:  ^^ Mittheilungcn 
iiber  wichtige  neue  Erforschungen  auf  dem  GesammtgeUete 
der  Geographies^  (Communications  concerning  New  and 
Important  Researches  in  the  realm  of  Geography)    the 
editor  of  which  is  Dr.  A.  Petermann,  who,  although  a 
young  man,   ranks  among  the  first  living  geographers 
This  periodical  is  admirably  got  up,  and  its  contents  are 
of  the  highest  interest  and  importance.     It  has  already 
attained  a  circulation  of  4,000  copies,  about  one  hundred 
of  which  go  to  the  United  States. 


4 


XXVII. 


LIFE  IN  THE  TlltJRINGIAN  FOREST. 


[OCTOBER,   1866.] 


Thebb  arc  some  aspects  of  German  life  which  wholly 
escape  the  notice  of  most  travellers,  and  which  can  only  be 
reached  through  an  intimate  familiarity  with  the  domestic 
life  of  the  country.     The  festivals,  no  less  than  the  costume 
and  manners  of  the  Middle  Ages,  have  already  disappeared 
from  many  parts  of  Germany,  but  fragments  of  them  stiU 
linger  in  the  more  secluded  districts— in  the  little  villages 
hidden  in  mountain  valleys  which  no  post-road  traverses, 
and  in  all  those  nooks  and  comers  of  the  land  which  are 
not  yet  represented  in  the  guide-books.     Here,  one  who 
speaks  the  language  and  understands  the  character  of  the 
people,  and  fraternizes  with  them  as  a  traveller  should,  will 
find  hi.  life  enriched  with  many  a  quaint  and  picturesque 
experience.    The  ThUringian  Forest,  well  known  to  Ger- 


P 


326 


AT   IIOMK   AND   AUUOAD. 


mans,  but  rarely  visited  by  foreigners,  is  one  of  those  re- 
gions,  and  my  visits  to  its  valleys  have  furnished  me  with  a 
few  pictures  of  peasant-life,  -.vhicli  I  propose  to  sketch  for 
uVnierican  eyes. 

My  acquaintance  with  the  Forest  dates  from  four  years 
back,  when,  in  company  with  my  friend,  I  spent  eight  or 
ton  days  in  exploring  it  from  end  to  end.     On  that  occasion 
I  first  met  tiie  Forester.     It  was  at  twilight,  high  on  the 
mountain,   at   a  hunting-lodge   in  the  woods,   called  the 
King's  House.     How  we  kindled  a  fire  of  fir-logs,  how  we 
sat  till  past  midnight  in  the  open  air,  telling  stories  and 
roasting  potatoes  in  the  ashes,  and  how  we  slept  side  by 
side  on  a  bundle  of  straw,  are  thmgs  which  we  keep  in 
choicest  memory,  and  the  reader  need  not  expect  me  to 
reveal  them.     Suffice  it  to  say,  that  night  the  Forester  and 
I  became  friends,  and  when,  the  next  morning,  his  gray 
mustache  brushed  my  cheek  at  parting,  I  promised  to  return 
to  the  King's  House  after  a  few  years,  and  spend  another 
night  with  him  by  the  camp-fire. 

A  fortnight  ago,  when  the  mornings  were  bright  and 
frosty,  and  the  days  bracing  and  cloudless,  we  set  out  for 
the  Forester's  home  in  the  little  village  of  Thai.  The  old 
ir.an  was  on  the  look-out  for  u.,  and  long  before  we  reached 
the  patriarchal  linden  which  stands  at  the  entrance  of  the 
village,  wc  saw  his  sunburnt  face,  his  thick  gray  mustache, 
and  his  green  hunting-coat  on  the  way  to  meet  us,  «  Ah !  " 
ho  cried,  as  he  welcomed  us  with  a  Teutonic  embrace,  "I 
h.'ive  been  on  burning  coals  for  the  last  two  hours,  for  fear 
you  would  not  come;  the  wood  is  all  ready  for  our  fire,  up 
yonder.    Schmidt  has  gone  ahead  with  the  beer  and  pota- 


LIFE   IN   TUB  'nii'UINGlAN   TOKEST.  327 

toes,  and  if  you  l.ave  brought  your  cigars,  there  is  nothing 
more  wanting."     But  first  we  must  go  into  his  house,  dis- 
tinguished above  all  others  in  the  vDlage  by  the  head  of  an 
antlered  buck  nailed  ui)on  its  front.    The  little  room  had 
an  air  of  comfort  and  elegance:  pots  of  flowers  filled  the 
^vindows,  and  a  glossy  ivy-plant  was  trained  to  run  along 
the  joist8  of  the  ceiling.    A  case  with  glass  doors  contained 
his  armory,  wliich  was  in  thorough  order;  a  chintz  sofa 
broad  enough  for  a  Turkish  divan,  occupied  the  other  end 
of  the  room,  and  a  stove,  big  as  the  tower  of  Babel,  stood 
between.     His  daughter  had  coffee  in  readiness,  and  while 
we  were  enjoying  it  after  our  walk,  the  house-maid,  Rata- 
nna,  was  dispatched  into  the  forest,  with  the  remainder  of 
our  provisions  and  equipments  upon  her  sturdy  back. 

We  shortly  followed,  up  a  little  dell  between  the  two 
hills  which  guard  the  village-the   Sclilossberg,  with  its 
rocky  cavern,  and  the  Scharfenberg,  with  the  tower  of  Cas- 
tie  Scharfenstein  on  its  summit.     The  meadows  were  still 
fresh  as  in  Summer,  the  tall  alders  .hading  the  brook  were 
dark-green,  but  the  woods  of  oak  and  beech  on  the  hills 
wore  the  dark  purple-brown  hues  of  a  German  Autumn. 
Our  path  led  upwards,  through  alternate  forest  and  moun- 
tain meadow,  for  nearly  three  miles  to  the  King's  House, 
which  wo  reached  as  the  broad  landscape,  stretching  away 
for  forty  or  fifty  miles  to  the  northwards,  began  to  grow 
dusky  in  the  twilight.     Schmidt  had  just  kindled  his  fire 
under  the  lee  of  a  high  bank,  and  a  great  pile  of  split  logs 
at  his  back  gave  cheering  promise  for  the  night.    A  huge 
jug  of  beer,  with  a  turnip  for  a  stopper,  leaned  against 
the  house;  a  loaf  of  brown  bread,  a  bag  of  potatoes,  and  a 


^2^  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


pot  of  butter,  lay  upon  the  rude  table  before  the  door,  and 
the  sight  of  these  preparations  gave  an  additional  whet  to 
our  appetite,  already  sharpened  by  the  keen  mountain  air. 
"  God  knows,"  said  the  Forester  (than  whom  there  is  no 
man  less  profane),  "this  is  what  I  have  been  wanting  to 
see  for  the  last  four  years.  This  is  a  night  to  be  remem- 
bered !" 

We  piled  on  the  logs  until  the  flames  rose  high  and  red, 
and  snapped  in  the  frosty  wind.     Schmidt,  at  the  Forester's 
order,  went  into  the  wood  for  green  fir-boughs,  which 
crackled  resinously,  and  sent  up  clouds  of  brilliant  sparks. 
But  it  was  long  dark  before  our  potatoes  were  boiled  and 
the  sausages  done  sputtering  upon  the  gridiron.     We  ate 
in  the  open  air,  with  the  thermometer  below  the  freezing 
point.    The  meal  was  royal ;  but  how  long  it  lasted  is  a 
secret  not  to  be  revealed,  except  among  the  freemasonry  of 
hunters  and  trappers.     «  Now,"  said  my  friend,  as  the  last 
potato  disappeared,  "let  us  turn  to  nobler  indulgences." 
Four  faded,  antique  chairs  were  brought  from  the  lodge, 
the   Forester,  my  friend,  sailor  and  self  took   our   seats 
around  the  fire,  and  Schmidt,  with  the  pipe  hanging  from 
his  teeth,  picked  up  a  burning  stick  and  pointed  out  the 
way  that  we  should  go.    The  wind  had  fallen,  and  the  roar- 
ing  logs  difi'used  a  warm  atmosphere  around  the  house; 
beams   of  light   streamed   between   the  tree-trunks,  and 
turned  the  yellow  leaves  to  ruddy  gold;  the  stars  looked 
down  as  their  turns  came,  and  twinkled  with  good-humor. 
In  short,  peace  was  upon  the  earth,  and  (so  far  as  we  were 
concerned)  good-will  towards  men. 
The  Forester,  chuckiiug  no'v  and  then  with  inward  satis. 


iSissm 


LIFE  IN  THE  THiJUINQIAN   FOREST.  329 

faction,  went  back  through  his  record  of  sixty-two  years, 
and  took  out  whatever  chapters  he  tliought  would  interest 
us-his  boyhood  in  the  stormy  Napoleonic  times,  his  youth 
and  manhood  in  the  forest,  stalking  alone  for  game,  fight- 
ing  with  poachers  and  outlaws,  or  accompanying  princely 
amateurs  on  their  frigid  hunting  excursions.     I  asked  him 
whether  he  had  e  jr  seen  Napoleon.    «Yes,"  said  he, 
"twice  during  the  Congress  of  Erfurt.    The  first  time,  I 
was  going  home  from  school  with  a  big  slate  under  my  arm, 
when  I  saw  an   immense  crowd  of  men  in  front  of  the 
Castle.    A  carriage  was  standing  in  the  midst,  and  I  heard 
the  people  say:  'It  is  the  Emperor.'    For  a  hundred  feet 
around  they  were  packed  as  close  as  they  could  squeeze, 
but  I  thought  to  myself,  '  Karl,  thou  must  see  the  Emperor,' 
if  thou  get'st  a  broken  rib  for  it.'     So  I  stooped  down^ 
shot  between  the  leg  of  the  first  and  pushed  towards  the 
carriage.     When  the  crowd  became  so  thick  that  I  could 
get  no  further,  I  punched  first  one  and  then  the  other  with 
the  sharp  corner  of  my  slate,  and  did  not  spare  the  blows, 
until  they  made  a  way  for  me.    After  this  subterranean  pas- 
sage,  I  found   myself,  with  very  little  breath   left,  just 
behind  Duke  August,  who  was  talking  with  the  En       or. 
I  looked  over  the  Duke's  shoulder,  directly  into  Napoleon's 
face." 

"  What  did  you  think  of  him  ?"  I  asked.  «  Why,"  said 
he,  "the  portraits  you  see  represent  the  man  very  well. 
He  had  the  same  square,  solid  head,  but  his  skin  was  yellow, 
and  looked  unclean  and  unhealthy.  His  eyes,  though— 
Donnenaetterf  such  eyes!  They  bored  into  you  like  a 
couple  of  augers.     Some  time  after  that  he  was  driving 


I 


330 


AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 


]^t^» 


around  Erfurt  in  his  carriage,  and  I  ran  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  along  the  top  of  a  high  bank  beside  the  road,  keeping 
"P  with  the  horses  and  looking  at  him.     He  had  a  table  in 
the  carnage  with  lii.n,  covered  with  letters  and  papers ;  and 
as  long  as  I  ran  he  never  once  looked  up,  but  read,  and 
wrote,  and  arranged.    At  that  time  the  Germans  used  to 
say  that  his  death  would  be  the  salvation  of  the  country,  and 
the  thought  came  into  my  head,  '  Now,  if  thou  hadst  but  a 
I.istol,  tuou  mightst  easily  shoot  him  dead  before  he  knew 
anything  aoout  it.'  " 

As  the  night  wore  on,  stories  gave  place  to  songs,  and 
the  Forester,  insisting  on  a  chorus,  gave  bout  for  bout  with 
my  friend,  and  revived  many  of  the  popular  ballads  of 
those  times.  There  was  a  droll  catch,  ridiculing  the  Tyrol- 
ese,  of  which  I  only  remember  the  following: 

• 

"What's the  drink  of  tlie  Tyroleae? 
What's  their  drink  ? 
Nothing  but  water  and  sour  wine, 
Which  they  swUl  hke  thirsty  swine. 

"Say,  wJiat  snaoke  the  Tyrolese? 
What  do  tliey  smoke  ? 
Fine  tobacco  they  smoke,  to  bo  sure: 
It  smells  no  better  than  stable  manure. 


"Where  are  the  beds  of  the  Tyrolese  7 

Where  are  their  beds  7 
Beautiful  beds  have  man  and  spouse, 
Among  the  calves  and  among  the  cows,"  &a 

About  midnight  our  supply  of  logs,  large  as  it  was,  begai 


LTFK  IN  THE  TIIUEINGIAN   FOREST. 


asi 


to  fail.     Wc  had  been  too  prodigal  in  our  holocaust,  an(T 
the   Forester  recommended  a  retreat  into  the  lodge,  tne 
floor  of  which  was  covered  with  straw,  while  the  ba"  ks  of 
the  old  chairs,  turned  bottom  upwards,  supplied  the  place  of 
pdlows.     I  will  not  say  that  we  slept  particularly  well,  but 
we  rose  all  the  earlier  for  that.     The  meadows  were  snoM-- 
white  with  frost,  and  the  autumnal  woods  shone  brilliant  in 
the  rising  sun.    Opposite  us  was  the  Horselberg,  where  the 
Frau  Venus  (so  called  by  the  German  peasantry)  continued 
to  haunt  the  earth  as  late  as  the  twelfth  century.    Many  a 
knight  went  into  the  cavern  on  the  northern  side  of  the 
mountain,  to  seek  her,  but  none  ever  returned.    The  faith- 
ful  Eckart,  the  squire  of  the  last  adventurer,  still  sits  at  the 
entrance  and  waits  for  his  master. 

We  walked  over  the  mountain  to  the  village  of  Ruhia 
celebrated  for  its  length,  its  wealth,  and  its  pretty  girls! 
"Ah,"  said  the  Forester,  as  we  came  out  of  the  woods,  and 
looked  over  the  wide  sweep  of  sun-illumined  hills,  »  such 
days  as  this  are  a  blessing  of  Heaven.     I  remember  the 
tmie  when  just  a  sunny  morning  made  me  so  happy  that  I 
did  not  know  what  to  do  with  myself     One  day  in  Spring, 
as  I  went  through  the  woods  and  saw  the  shadows  of  the 
young  leaves  upon  the  moss  and  smelt  the  buds  of  the  firs 
and  larches,  and  thought  to  myself,  'All  thy  life  is  to  be 
spent  in  the  splendid  forest,'  I  actually  threw  myself  down 
and  rolled  in  the  grass  like  a  dog,  over  and  over,  crazy 
with  joy.     I  have  longed  to  have  the  same  feeling  once 
more  in  life,  but  it  never  comes  back  again."     «  Oh,"  said 
I,  "a  man  who  has  such  lively  blood  in  his  vems,  does  not 
get  old  so  soon."    «I  am  growing  old,  nevertheless,"  he 


m 

fet 


332 


AT  HOMK  AND  ABKOAD. 


ifi 


answered;  «my  sight  is  not  so  keen  as  it  was,  and  lately 
I  was  ob:;ged  to  feel  ashamed  before  my  dog.  I  shot  at  a 
partridge  and  missed ;  the  beast  turned  around  and  looked 
me  full  in  the  face,  but  I  couldn't  meet  his  look-I  turned 
my  head  away  and  blushed.  I  have  no  doubt  the  poor 
dog  tries  to  account  for  ray  faUure  to  this  day,  but  he  can't 
make  it  out." 

We  came  home  again  the  same  night,  after  promising  to 
return  to  Thai  the  following  week,  when  the  mrmse  would 
be  celebrated.    This  is  an  annual  festival  of  the  peasantry 
of  very  remote  origin.     It  generally  takes  place  in  the 
Fall,  during  the  interval  between  Summer  and  Winter 
work,  and  lasts  from  two  to  three  days.     Formerly  the 
Airmse  was  ushered  in  with  many  ceremonies  which  are 
now  almost  entirely  obsolete.    The  young  men  and  girls 
m  holiday  dress,  formed  in  procession,  and  after  a  cock  had 
been  killed  by  the  leader,  marched  to  the  church,  where  an 
appropriate   service  was  performed.    A  sheep  was  then 
slaugntered  and  roasted,  and  the  mrmse  was  thoroughly 
maururated  by  the  repast  which  followed. 

The  church  service  is  still  retained,  and  in  this  respect 
the  festival  bears  some  resemblance  to  our  Thanksgiving 
The  preparations  are  made  by  a  committee  of  the  young 
peasants,  who  are  called  Kirmse-boys,  and  elect  a  leader 
whose  command  is  law.  Each  boy  chooses  a  maiden  as  his 
partner,  and  the  latter  is  bound  to  purchase  him  a  gay 
8.1k  cravat  (which  he  pins  upon  his  right  shoulder  while 
dancing),  as  well  as  to  furnish  him  with  food  and  drink 
during  the  three  days.  This  costs  the  girls  from  two  to 
three  thalers  (|2)  apiece,  a  considerable  sum  in  these  parts 


LIFE   IN  THB  TUIJBIXOIAK   FOKEST, 


but  they  manage  to  curtail  their  expenses  by  hiring  a  com- 
mon eating-room,  and  levying  contributions  of  meal,  pota- 
toes, sausages,  and  beer,  upon  all  the  faraibes  in  the  nei"-h- 
borhood.  The  boys  furnish  the  mu""  the  dancing-hall, 
and  the  schv^ps,  which  th?y  pay  for  1.  n  the  fees  exacted 
from  those  who  do  not  belong  to  the  committee.  The 
Kirmse  is,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  carnival  for  the  German  pea- 
santry, and  they  allow  themselves  all  sorts  of  liberties  while 
it  lasts.  In  the  ducal  meadows  near  Coburg,  for  instance, 
the  Duke  and  Duchess  attend,  and  any  Kirmse-boy  is 
privileged  to  call  out  the  latter,  while  the  Duke,  in  his 
turn,  waltzes  with  the  prettiest  peasant  girls. 

We  went  again  to  Thai  on  the  last  day  of  the  Kirmse. 
The  fine  weather  was  past,  the  air  threatened  snow,  and 
the  revellers  were  beginning  to  show  signs  of  fatigue  ;  but 
the  Forester  comforted  us  with  the  assurance  that  in  the 
evening  all  would  be  merry  enough.  Soon  after  our 
arrival  the  village  band  appeared  and  performed  a  melan- 
choly serenade  under  the  window.  It  was  followed  by 
an  awkward  and  riotous  company,  who  proved  to  be 
masqueraders— the  boys  being  girls  in  male  attire,  and 
vice  versa.  Having  paid  our  initiation  fees  to  these  visi- 
tors, they  withdrew,  and  we  took  advantage  of  the 
temporary  quiet  to  climb  to  the  ruin  of  the  Scharfen- 
stein.  We  found  nothing  left  except  the  tower,  whose 
walls  were  of  remarkable  thickness  and  solidity,  and  a 
fragment  of  a  wall  and  gateway,  over  which  was  sculptured 
a  coat  of  arms,  with  the  inscription,  "  House  and  Hearth 
of  the  Lord  of  Scharfcnberg,  a.t>.  1412."  The  snow  was 
blowing  fast  down  the  valley,  and  by  the  time  we  reached 


S34 


AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 


the  Forester's  house  his  daughter  announced  that  dinner 
Avas  ready. 

We  did  full  justice  to  the  roasted  hare  and  roe's  liver, 
and  did  not  slight  the  slim-necked  urns  filled  by  the 
Rhenish  naiads.  Towards  the  close  of  the  repast,  the 
Forester  insisted  on  opening  a  stout  old  bottle,  in  order, 
us  he  said,  to  see  what  was  inside  of  it.  An  oily,  dark- 
golden  fluid  slid  into  hi"  glass  from  its  ope::  mouth.  ''Al- 
lewettemochhinein ! ''>  hi  exclaimed,  on  tasting  it;  "that 
is  something!  That  is  the  bottle  I  have  had  in  my  cellar 
nine  years,  and  kept  for  a  great  occasion— and  there  never 
Avas  a  better  time  to  open  it !  »  We  followed  hir,  example  : 
it  Mas  genuine  Constantia,  fiill  of  African  sun  and  fire,  and 
from  twenty  to  thirty  years  old.  '' Alkicetter  ! ''  he  a^^ain 
cried,  "  I  had  forgotten  which  svas  thd  true  bottle,  and  to 
think  that  it  should  turn  up  to-day  !     The  Herr  Insjiector 

X gave  it  to  me  for  my  birthday  ;  but  I  thought  to 

myself,  '  Tliou  dost  not  need  any  sucb  good  wine  for  thy 
birthday— keep  it  for  something  better  I '  and  as  long  as  I 
live  I  shall  be  glad  that  I  did  so." 

By  this  time  the  band  had  made  its  appearance  under 
the  migl.ty  linden  in  front  of  the  parson's  house,  and 
w.iltzing  couples  began  to  wheel  around  under  the  bouo-hs. 
notwithstanding  the  snow  and  the  raw  wind.  Presently  a 
deputation,  consisting  of  the  Kirmse-leader,  his  adjutant, 
and  two  stout  maidens,  came  into  the  room  and  gave  us 
a  ceremonious  invitation  to  join  the  dance.  The  leader 
.s  a  rosy,  bright-eyed  fellow  of  twenty-two,  and  his 
partner  a  tall  maiden  of  great  strength,  who  stood  firm 
upon  her  feet.     "Directly,"  said  the  Forester,  in  answer; 


LIFE   IN  THE  TIluniNGIAN   FOREST. 


886 


**  but  we  must  first  have  our  pipes.  If  every  one  of  you," 
he  added,  turning  to  me,  "  were  lying  dead  in  this  room,  I 
should  sit  down  and  howl  like  a  dog,  but  in  fifleen  minutes 
I  should  get  up  and  light  my  pipe." 

As  our  pipes  burned   slowly,  the  deput.'on   came  a 
second  time  and  carried   us   off  to  the  linden  ♦-ree.    The 
strong  maiden,  Elisabetha  by  name,  was  transferred  to  me, 
and  we   were  soon  whirling  around  inside  the   ring  of 
admiring  spectators.     Elisabetha  was  light   on  her  feet, 
but  very  firm ;  she  needed  no  support ;  she  moved  like  a 
revolving  pillar,  around  which  I  revolved  in  turn,  strivino- 
to  keep  pace  and  to  moderute  her  speed,  but  I  might  as 
well  have  attempted  to  regulate  the  earth's  motion  on  its 
axis.     The  Forester,  meanwhile,  brought  out  the  parson's 
daughter,  and  his  gray  moustache  occasionally  whizzed  past 
me.     I  would  have  transferred  the  strong  Elisabetha  to 
him,  but  it  was  too  late :  round  and  round  we  went,  and 
the  bouglis  of  the  linden  seemed  to  grow  broader  and  to 
stretch  over  vast  spaces.     Finally,  there  were  lindens  on 
every  side,  and  we  were  obliged  to  circle  all  of  them  ;  but 
at  last  a  voice  roared  in  our  ears,  "  You  are  out  of  time  !  " 
and  the  strong  maiden  stopped.     The  dances  under  the 
linden  terminated  soon  afterwards,  and  the  peasants  went 
off  to  prepare  for  the  night. 

We  first  visited  the  Heiligenstein,  across  the  valley — 
once  a  monastery,  row  a  tavern ;  but  as  the  maidens  of 
Ruhla,  with  their  picturesque  dress  and  their  fair  com- 
plexions, did  not  arrive  according  to  expectation,  we 
returned  to  Thai,  where  the  Kirmse-boys  had  already  col- 
lected in  the  dancing-hall.    It  was  a  low  room,  opposite  the 


336 


AT   HOME   AXD   ABROAD. 


village  tavern,  with  the  orchestra  on  a  platform  at  one  end. 
The  floor  was  crowded  with  peasants,  leaving  only  a  ring- 
shaped  space  vacant  for  the  dancers.  On  our  appearance 
there,  about  nine  o'clock,  I  was  immediately  accosted  by  the 
Kirmse-leader,  who  conducted  to  me  the  strong  Elisabetha. 
It  was  impossible  to  decline,  for  she  was  his  chosen  sweet- 
heart, and  one  of  the  first  maidens,  in  point  of  her  worldly 
prospects,  in  the  valley.  I  resolved,  however,  to  let  her 
dance  for  both  of  us,  and  confine  my  exertions  merely  to 
holding  on.  My  companion  was  furnished  with  a  rather 
pretty  partner,  named  Barbara  Horushoc,  and  the  manner 
in  which  her  feet  pattered  upon  the  floor  did  justice  to  her 
name. 

The  Kirmse-leader  seemed  to  consider  us  the  guests  of 
the  village.  We  were  consulted  with  regard  to  the  dances, 
and  exempted  from  all  obedience  to  his  rule.  When  he 
touched  the  other  dancers  with  his  wooden  baton,  as  a  sign 
for  them  to  cease,  he  passed  us  over,  greatly  to  the  delight 
of  our  powerful  partners,  whom  nothing  could  tire.  One 
of  the  da  ices  was  a  Polonaise^  and  consist  od  in  the  whole 
company  following  the  leader,  who  was  Schmidt's  son. 
lie  danced  down  stairs  into  the  street,  across  the 
brook  and  up  again,  winding  up  with  a  rapid  galop.  After 
awhile  the  leader  came  up  with  a  glass  of  some  dark  beve- 
rage, which  he  insisted  on  our  drinking.  I  tasted  it :  it 
W'»«'  schnaps,  the  most  villanous  kind  of  brandy,  and  as 
strong  as  it  was  bad.  One  taste  was  suflScient,  but  it  was 
no  sooner  offered  to  the  strong  Elisabetha  than  she  emptied 
the  glass  without  changing  a  muscle  of  her  countenance. 
The  quantity  of  this  vile  diink  consume(?  by  the  peasant 


UFE   IN  TUB  TIIUKINGIAN   FOREST.  337 

girls,  without  any  anparont  effV-ct,  surprised  me.  It  was  a 
stronger  proof  than  I  had  yet  had  of  the  vigor  of  their 
constitutions. 

Before  leaving  the  dancing-hall  I  gave  the  leader  what 
we  should  consider  a  very  trifling  fee,  but  it  was  so  large  in 
his  «yes,  that  the  muniHcence  of  the  American  guest  was 
talked  of  all  over  the  village.     We  were  serenaded  again 
the  next  day.  ai.d  through  the  harmless  fraternization  of 
the  Kirmse,  received  the  most  friendly  and  familiar  greet- 
ings on  all  sides.     As  for  the  Forester,  who  accompanied 
us  a  mile  or  two  of  our  way,  we  p-rted  from  him  as  from 
an  old  friend,  and  the  days  we  spent  under  his  roof  and 
beside  hia  camp-fire  wiU  not  live  longer  in  his  memory  than 
in  ours. 


16 


XXVIII 


INTERVIEWS  Wmi  GERMAN  AUTHORS. 


1;. 


While  at  Coburg  in  tlie  beginning  of  October.  1852,  I 
paid  a  visit  to  RUckert,  the  poec,  who  has  a  small  estate  in 
the  adjoining  vilhige  of  Neusass.  He  has  tu?  reputation  of 
being  a  cold,  ascetic  man,  and  never  mingles  in  society. 
V^ery  few  of  the  Cobirgers  know  him,  and  many  have 
never  once  seen  him.  I  fell  in  with  a  student  of  the  Orien- 
tal languages  who  had  some  Jicqnaintance  with  him,  and 
aocomjianied  me  to  his  house.  As  w*.  .vere  passing  through 
the  garden  we  came  upon  him  suddenly,  standing  in  the 
midst  of  a  great  bed  of  rose-bushes  and  gathering  the 
seeds  of  flowers.  In  this  occupation  I  recognised  the 
author  of  "  Oriental  Roses,"  but  scarcely  the  poet  of  Love, 
the  ardent  disciple  of  Ilafiz,  in  the  tall,  stern,  gray-haired 
man  who  stood  before  me.  His  manner  at  first  was  rather 
cold  and  constrained,  but  it  was  the  constraint  of  ?  scholar, 
unaccustomed  to  strange  faces,  and  therefore  ill  at  case. 


INTERVIEWS    WITH    GEKMAN   AUTHOKS.  339 

He  invited  us  i„to  the  house,  and  commenced  the  conver- 
sation awkwardly,  by  asking  me  :  «  Where  have  you  been  ?" 
"In  tlie  Orient,"  I  answered.     This  was  enough.    A  sud- 
den enthusiasm  shot  into  his  face,  his  keen,  deep-set  eyes 
kmdied,  and  his  whole  bearing  changed.    For  two  or  three 
hours  the  conversation  flowed  on  without  a  break-on  his 
part  a  full  stream  of  the  richest  knowledge,  sparklin-  all 
over  with  gleams  of  poetry.    His  manner  towards  me'was 
earnest,  kind,  and  cord       and  charmed  me  all  the  more 
because  I  had  decided  oefore  seeing  him,  that  he  was  miap! 
predated  and  misjudged  by  his  neighbors. 

I  was  surprised  to  find  that  RUckert,  who  is  probably  the 
finest  Oriental  scholar  in  Europe  (witness  his  remarkable 
translation  of  the  Mdharadt  el-ITarin),  was  unr.cquainted 
wi^h  the  true  Arabic  pronunciation.     This,  it  appears,  is 
not  taught  in  the  German  universiti..,  probably  on  account 
of  the  difficulty  of  giving  the  correct  guttural  sounds. 
.N-evertheless,  he  h  the  only  one  who  has  ever  reproduced, 
in  another  language,  the  laborious  and  elaborate  Arabic' 
and  Persian  metres.    His  knowledge  of  all  European  lan- 
guages is  even  more  profound,  and  although  he  does  not 
speak  English,  he  seems  to  comprehend  its  genius  as  tho- 
roughly as  that  of  his  native  tongue. 

Just  four  years  afterwards,  I  revisited  Coburg,  princi- 
pally for  the  sake  of  seeing  again  the  noble  old  poet,  who, 
having  heard  that  I  wps  in  Gotha,  \^:.y  asked  me  to  call 
upon  hill  before  leaving  Gor^nany.  I  found  him  living  the 
same  studious,  secluded  life  in  the  little  village  of  i^eusass, 
buried  in  his  Oriental  manuscripts  and  rarely  seen  by  men. 
Ills  wifo  (the  Luise  of  his  earlier  poems)  welcomed  me 


V 


■^•' '  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

with  cordiality,  and  two  blooming  daughters  kept  up  a 
lively  conversation  until  the  poet  appeared.  IIow  well  I 
remembered  that  frame,  tall  and  slender  as  Schiller's,  but 
erect  as  an  Arab  chieftain's;  that  stately  head,  with  the 
gray  hair  parted  in  front  and  falling  in  silver  masses  on  the 
shoulders;  the  strongly  modelled  brow,  under  which 
looked  out  eyes  full  of  a  soft,  lambent  fire,  like  those  of  a 
seer  •  the  straight,  strong  nose,  firm,  stern  lips,  and  pro- 
jecting chin,  a  milder  counterpart  of  Andrew  Jackson— 
the  head  of  a  thinker  and  a  poet ! 

ROckert  must  be  nearly,  if  not  quite,  seventy  years  of 
age.  He  is  still  (I  venture  to  say)  as  productive  as  ever, 
although  he  has  published  little  for  some  years  past.  His 
habits  of  study  have  made  him  shy  and  abstracted,  but  the 
same  habits  give  to  his  conversation  a  vigor  of  thought,  a 
richness  of  illustration,  and  a  glow  of  *ancy,  which  I  think 
could  scarcely  have  been  surpassed  by  the  monologues  of 
Coleridge.  With  his  soft,  bright  eyes  directed  steadily 
before  him,  as  if  be  saw  the  horizon  of  the  desert,  he 
talked  of  the  Arabs  who  lived  before  Mohammed  with  the 
same  familiar  intelligence  as  he  would  speak  of  his  contem- 
poraries. The  lifting  of  his  glance,  as  he  turned  towards 
me  now  and  then,  in  the  earnestness  of  his  discourse,  was 
like  an  Eastern  sunrise.  The  East  lives  in  his  soul,  and 
warms  his  old  age  ,vith  its  eternal  summer. 

Uhland  only  disputes  with  RUckert  the  title  of  being 
-  he  first  of  living  German  poets.  He  is  more  simple  and 
pathetic,  and  his  verses  appeal  more  directly  to  the  Gor- 
man heart.  RQckert,  on  the  other  hand,  is  half  an  Asiatic, 
and  in  the  splendor  of  his  imagination,  as  well  as  his  won- 


INTERVIEWS   WITH   GEKilAN   AUTHORS. 


341 


derful  command  of  the  dexterities  of  his  native  language, 
is  scarcely  surpassed  by  El  Hariri  himself.  There  can  be 
no  comparison  between  the  two ;  they  stand  on  different 
I)edestals.  Personally,  also,  the  men  have  no  resemblance. 
I  was  in  Tubingen  in  1852— the  home  of  Uliland— and 
could  not  find  it  in  ray  heart  to  leave  without  speaking  to 
the  man  whose  "  Minstrel's  Curse  "  and  "  Little  Roland  " 
had  been  haunting  my  brain  for  so  many  years.  I  wrote 
a  note  stating  my  desire,  and  immediately  received  an  in- 
vitation to  call  upon  him.  I  found  hira  in  a  house  over- 
looking the  valley  of  the  Neckar,  in  a  little,  dark,  barely 
furnished  library.  He  came  forward  to  meet  me — a  small, 
wrinkled,  dry  old  man  of  at  least  seventy,  with  a  bald 
head  and  curious  puckers  in  the  corners  of  his  mouth  and 
eyes.  But  the  eyes  themselves  were  as  soft,  blue,  and 
clear  as  a  child's,  and  there  was  a  winning,  child-like  sim- 
plicity in  his  manner,  despite  a  certain  awkwardness  and 
frigidity  which  at  first  showed  itself. 

We  sat  down  together  on  the  little  leather-covered  sofa 
behind  his  desk,  and  he  talked  very  pleasantly  for  an  hour. 
1  asked  whether  he  had  written  anything  recently,  or 
whether  he  had,  perhaps,  grown  weary  of  that 

"  Pleasure  in  poetic  pains, 
"Which  only  poets  know." 

"  I  should  not  like  to  swear,"  lie  said  in  answer,  "  that  t 
shall  write  no  more  songs.  I  have  as  much  pleasure  in 
what  I  have  done,  as  e»^er;  but  there  is  no  longer  the  same 
necessity  for  expression,  and  I  never  write  without  a  strong 
necessity.     I  hear  the  same  music  in  my  brain,  but  am  con- 


t 


••sss-zasa^it: 


342 


AT   HOME   AND   ABKOAD. 


tent  to  hear  it  without  singing  it."     Just  the  answer  I 
should  have  expected  from  a  true  poet.  ^ 

At  the  table  of  a  friend  in  Coburg  I  met  with  Frede- 
rick Gerstacker,  the  distinguished  traveller  and  author.     I 
had  spent  an  afternoon  with  him  in  the  Rosenthal,  near 
Leipsic,  eleven  years  before;  but  he  had  compassed  the 
earth  since  then— had  ridden  across  the  Pampas,  washed 
gold  in   California,  played  the  guitar  in  Tahiti,  tramped 
through  Australia,  and  listened  to  the  songs  of  Malay  girls 
in  Java.     lie  was  but  little  changed,  except  in  wearing  a 
thick  brown  beard,  which  mitigated  the  somewhat  harsh 
projection  of  his  under  jaw.    There  was  the  same  lithe, 
wiry  frame,  imworn  by  much  endurance,  the  sloping  brow, 
expanding  to  a  wedge-like  shape  at  the  temples,  and  the 
(piick,  keen,  vivacious  gray  eye,  as  I  remembered  them  in 
1845.     Gerstacker  has  one  of  those  faces  which  are  never 
forgotten.     His  individuality  is  strongly  marked  ;  he  takes 
•nd  gives  impressions  with  equal  force,  and  thus  adventures 
and  picturesque  experiences  come  to  him  unsought,  Avhich 
is  the  greatest  fortune  a  traveller  can  have.     His  works 
have  been  very  successful,  and  yield  him  (what  few  German 
authors  can  boast  of)  a  handsome  income. 

Duke  Ernest  of  Saxe-Coburg  Gotha,  who  is  distin- 
guished among  German  princes  by  an  intelligent  taste 
for  literature  and  art,  has  made  choice  of  Gerstacker  as 
his  special  friend  and  compani  ;n.  The  latter,  who  is  an 
enthusiastic  hunter,  accompanies  ]iim  every  fall  to  the 
Tyrol,  where  they  spend  weeks  on  the  mountain-tops, 
sleeping  in  cWets,  and  creeping  all  day  among  the  rocks 
to  waylay   the  chamois.     They  had  just  returned   from 


INTERVIEW8   WITn   GERMAN   AUTHORS. 


S43 


such  an  excursion,  during  which  Gerstao'^er.  in  spite  of 
a  bullet-wound  in  his  left  hand,  succeeded  in  shooting  nine. 
He  was  then  engaged  in  writing  romances,  the  material  for 
whicli  was  in  most  part  derived  from  his  experiences  of 
travel.  I  do  not  believe,  however,  that  his  daring,  adven- 
turous spirit  will  be  long  satisfied  with  the  quiet  of  his 
home  at  Rossenau.  He  will  soon  crave  a  fresh  stock  of 
those  vital  experiences,  which  in  their  present  enjoyment 
far  surpass  all  anticipation  and  all  memory. 

At  Dresden  I  was  welcomed  by  my  friend  Alexander 
Ziegler,  who  had  just  returned  from  a  visit  to  the  midnight 
sun  at  Hamniertest.  His  face  had  waxed  round  and  ruddy 
in  the  breezes  of  the  North,  and  from  the  interest  with 
which  he  spoke  of  his  journey  I  at  once  ai.cicipated  a  new 
volume  from  his  pen.  Ziegler  is  known  in  Germany  as  the 
author  of  Travels  in  America,  Spain,  and  the  Orient.  His 
Avorks  are  distinguished  by  a  clear,  practical,  serious  habit 
of  observation,  a  scrupulous  attention  to  details,  combined 
with  considerable  power  of  generalization,  and  a  cheerful, 
genial  tone,  which  never  rises  into  the  realms  of  the  ima- 
gination, but  often  sparkles  with  touches  of  graphic  humor. 
He  is  enough  of  the  cosmopolite  to  enjoy  the  most  widely- 
separated  spheres  of  travel,  and  it  is  scarcely  likely  that  he 
will  remain  very  long  at  home  while  his  nature  retains  its 
present  buoyancy  and  restless  activity  of  life. 

Dresden  is  at  present  the  literary  capital  of  Germany, 
although  the  King  of  Bavaria,  by  drawing  around  him 
such  men  as  Bodenstedt  and  Geibel,  seeks  to  secure  that 
distinction  for  Munich.  Freytng,  the  author  of  that  admi- 
rable novel,  "  iSoU  und  Haben^''  resides  in  Leipsic,  and 


344 


AT   UOME   AND   ABROAD. 


Mflgge,  whose  "Afraja"  has  charmed  American  readers, 
in  Berlin  ;  but  in  Dresden  are  grouped  Auerbach,  Gutskow, 
Dr.  Andree,  Wolfssohn,  Julius  Hammer,  and  Otto  Ro- 
quette,  besides  Professor  Reicheubach,  Stcinle,  the  engraver 
Dahl,  the  old  Norwegian  painter,  and  a  host  of  other 
artists.  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  the  pass-word  to 
this  charmed  circle.  Authors  and  artists  have  tlie  same 
masonic  signs  all  over  the  world,  and  the  cloud  of  smoke 
which  filled  their  private  hall  of  meeting  in  the  rear  of  the 
Cafe  de  I'Europe  was  the  fame  familiar  atmosphere  which 
my  fellow  centurions  are  wont  to  inhale  at  home. 

Auerbach,  whose  "-  Dorfgeschichten''  (Village  Stories) 
from  the  Black  Forest  have  a  European  reputation,  is  a 
short,  broad-shouldered,  muscular,  ruddy-faced  man,  about 
forty-six  years  of  age.     His  eyes  are  large,  wide  apart,  and 
brownish-gray,  and  the  lower  part  of  his  face  is  comfort- 
ably enveloped  in  a  short,  thick  brown  beard.     He  is  one 
of  those  hale,  honest,  clear-seeing  natures,  of  which  there 
are  too  few  in  the  world— a  mixture  of  keen  intelligence 
and  child-like  simplicity  and  naivete,  such  as  we  find  in  the 
dramatists  of  the  Elizabethan  age.     He  knows  the  woods 
and  mountains  too  well  to  be  fettered  by  the  frigid  conven- 
tionalities which  rule  the  talk  of  society.     He  is  too  uncon- 
scious of  them  even  to  notice  them  with  his  scorn ;  but 
speaks  straight  from  the  heart,  whatever  comes  first,  and 
everything  as  it  conies— fun,  earnest,  satire,  enthusiasm. 
He  says  many  good  things,  and  even  where  he  hits  pretty 
sharply,  is  so  genial   and  true-heirted   thereby  that   no 
wound  is  left  beliind. 

I  was  interested  to  find  how  immediately  Auerbach  and 


INTERVIEWS  wrrn  German  AcmoRS. 


345 


my  companion  understood  each  other.    Authors  have  per- 
haps the  truest  instincts  of  character  in  other  men,  but 
those  who  lead  a  free  life  in  close  communion  with  nature 
— hunters,  sailors,  and  lumbermen,  who  can  dare  to  act 
without   8ubterfug'3,   compromise,   or  even   the  ordinary 
considerations  of  worldly  prudence — are  scarcely  less  cor- 
rect in  their  sympathies.    Tliey  may  be  unable  to  api)re- 
ciate  particular  ranges  of  intellect,  but  they  read  character 
at  a  glance.     The  German  author  and  the  American  sailor, 
in  spite  of  their  totally  divergent  lives  and  experiences  of 
mankind,  knew  each  other  at  first  sight,  with  as  just  an 
estimation  as  the  literary  friends  of  the  one  or  the  faithful- 
est  shipmates  of  the  other,  after  years  of  familiar  intercourse. 
Dr.  Karl  Andree,  the  distinguished  geographer,  was  in 
one  respect  a  wonder  to  me.     There   is  not  a  man  in 
Europe,  I  venture  to  say,  and  not  a  great  many  in  the 
United  States,  who  possess  such  an  intimate  knowledge  of 
our  country  and  its  institutions,  its  geography,  its  statistics, 
and  its  social  and  political  life.     It  was  curious  to  sit  in  his 
library  in  Dresden,  knowing  that  he  had  never  crossed  the 
Atlantic,  and  to  hear  him  discuss  the  aberrations  of  Ameri- 
can editors,  and  reveal  the  wire-working  of  our  demago<rnes 
and  political  jugglers,  even  to  the  smallest.     Andree  is  at 
the  same  time  one  of  the  hardest  workers  and  best  com- 
panions in  the  world — a  mixture  which  I  wish  were  more 
common  in  America.     "We  have  the  workers  in  plenty,  but 
w'ork  too  often  robs  us  of  the  social  amenities  of  life. 

In  company  with  Ziegler  I  called  upon  Gutzkow,  the 
dramatist,  who  unquestionably  stands  at  the  head  of  living 
German  writers  for  the  stage.     ] 


15* 


play  of  '■'•  Zopf 


^^^  AT   HOME  AXD   ABROAD. 


^^i^^iBHiiMili 


Schicerf'  (Queue  and  Sword)  has  for  many  years  kept  a 
l)lace  on  the  boards  of  all  the  theatres  between  the  Alps 
and  the  lialtic.  He  is  a  small  man,  forty  years  of  age, 
witli  blonde  hair  and  moustache,  gray  eyes,  a  forcible  nose, 
and  an  expression  in  which  keenness  and  clearness  of 
mental  insight  is  predominant.  Judging  by  his  face,  I 
should  say  that  he  is  patient,  persevering,  and  conscien- 
tious in  execution,  sharp  and  rapid  in  his  appreciation  of 
Avhat  he  needs  and  can  use,  but  effective  rather  through  his 
outside  knowledge  of  men  and  of  life,  than  from  great 
power  and  warmth  of  passion  in  himself.  Ilis  bearing  was 
courteous  and  kind,  but  he  impressed  me  like  a  clear 
winter  morning  after  feeling  the  mellow  summer  glow  of 
Auerbach. 

Wolfssohn,  whose  recent  success  as  a  dramatist,  in  his 
play  of  "iVwr  eim  SeeW  (Only  a  Soul),  has  delighted  his 
frii'nds,  and  brought  him  what  true  success  always  brings— 
envy— is  also  distinguished  for  his  translations  from  the 
Russian.  He  resided  for  some  time  in  Moscow,  and  has 
made  his  knowledge  of  Russian  life  very  effective  in  his 
plays,  which  are  mostly  Russian  in  subject.  He  is  a  quiet, 
genial,  studious  man,  and  I  rorrretted  that  a  temporary 
indisposition  prevented  me  from  seeing  as  much. of  him  as 
I  wished, 

Julius  Hammer  is  the  author  of  a  volume  of  poems 
entitled  '' Schau  in  Dich  tmd  Schau  urn  Dich''  (Look 
within  Thee  and  aroi.nd  Thee).  It  is  one  of  the  most  suc- 
cessful of  recent  books  of  German  poems,  having  rapidly 
run  through  five  editions.  Its  character  is  serious  and 
reflective,   rather  than   imaginative,   but    2>ervadcd   with 


i£^iS^^ 


INTKUVIKWS   WITH   GEBMAIi   AUTIIOBS. 


347 


warm  human  sympatliics.  In  calling  upon  Hammer  I  met 
with  one  of  those  pleasant  surprises  which  rarely  come 
to  those  who  send  their  children  into  the  world,  trustuig 
their  existence  to  their  own  powers  of  vitality.  lie  was 
sitting  at  his  desk,  writing  the  last  line  of  a  translation  of 
one  of  my  own  poems,  which  he  immediately  read  to  me  in 
its  new  dress. 

While  in  Berlin,  the  same  year,  I  paid  a  visit  to  Dr.  Karl 
Ritter,  the  distinguished  geographer,  to  whom  I  had  a 
letter  of  introduction  from  my  friend   Ziegler.     I  found 
him  at  his  rooms,  overlooking  the  Gendarm-markt,  and, 
though  I  happened  to  call  during  his  hours  of  study,  was 
at   once   admitted.     Through  two  rooms,  crammed  with 
books  from  floor  to   ceiling,  I  passed  to  his  workshop, 
which  was  furnished  in  the  same  manner,  and  exhaled  the 
same  delightfully  infectious  odor  of  antique  leather.     He 
was  sitting  at  his  desk,  in  the  midst  of  a  chaos  of  books 
and  papers,  but   rose    and   came   forward  as   I   entered. 
Here  was  again   a   massive   Teutonic  head,  larger  than 
Humboldt's,  but  not  so  symmetrically  balanced,  a  broad, 
overhanguig  brow,  shading  large   and   friendly   eyes,   a 
strong  nose,  and  one  of  those  ample,  irregular    mouths, 
in  whicli  the  expression  of  kindness  and  goodness  atones 
for  the  absence  of  beauty.     His  hair  was  gray  and  thin, 
for  he  must  have  seen  at  least  sixty-five  summers,  but  his 
tall  figure  was   still   erect  and   full   of  strength.     The 
dressing-gown  he  wore,  with  his  unbuttoned   collar  and 
bare   throat,   gave  a   certain   grace   and    dignity  to  his 
nppcarance,  not  unlike  that  which  belongs  to  the  picture 
of  Goethe  in  his  latter  days, 


I 


i^  J' 


•'^^  AT  IIOMB   AND   ABROAD. 

Our  conversation  t^-ts  mostly  geographical,  and  though 
I  remained  ^>ui  1  -lU*  ni(  hour,  through  fear  of  interrupting 
his  labors,  it  served  to  illustrate  his  immense  knowledge. 
He  touched  upon  the  Japanese  and  the  Chinese,  the  Tartars 
and  Thibetans,  the  Lapps  and  Samoyeds,  the  Shillooks,  the 
Dinkas,   and  the  Bushmo-  ;   described  the   foi-mation  of 
their  respective  countries,  the   climate   and   productions, 
their  habits,  laws,  and  religions.     My  projected  journey 
to  Lapland  appeared  to  interest  him,  and  he  advised  me  to 
notice  the  result  of  the  Swedish  missionary  labors  among 
that  people,  and  to  contrast  it  with  the  operation  of  similar 
labora  in  India  and  China.     The  interior  of  Swedish  Lapp, 
mark  was,  he  admitted,  a  comparatively  unknown  region, 
and  he  commended  my  design  of  visiting  it  in  the  winter, 
when  the  facilities  of  getting  from  point  to  point  are  much 
greater  than  in  summer,  and  the  Lapps  are  gathered  to- 
gether in  their  villages.     He  recommended  the  work  of 
Leopold  von  Buch  as  the  best  description  of  Norway  and 
Lapland.     Ritter  is  now  engaged  in  the  publication  of  a 
Universal  Geography,  which,  so  far  as  it  has  appeared,  far 
surpasses  all  previous  works  of  the  same  character,  in  the 
richness  and  accuracy  of  its  information.     The   Germans 
are  undoubtedly  at  present  the  greatest  geographers  in  the 
world,  and  the  French,  despite  their  claims,  the  worst. 

I  was  fortunate  in  having  a  letter  to  Theodor  MOgge, 
the  author  of  "Afraja"  and  "Eric  Randal."  When  I 
called  at  hi^s  residence,  according  to  a  previous  appoint- 
ment, a  pretty  little  girl  of  seven  or  eight  years  opened 
the  door.  « Is  Herr  Dr.  Mugge  at  home  ?  »  I  asked.  She 
went  to  an  adjacent  door  and  cried  out,  "  Father,  are  you 


INTERVIEWS   WITH    OKRMAN    AUTHORS. 


340 


at  home?"  "Jb  woA/,»  answered  a  sturdy  voice;  and 
presently  a  tall,  broad-shonklered,  and  rather  handsome 
man  of  over  forty  years  made  his  appearance.  He  wore  a 
thick,  brown  beard,  spectacles,  was  a  little  bald  about  the 
templ..s,  and  spoke  with  a  decided  North-German  accent. 
His  manner  at  first  was  marked  with  more  reserve  than  is 
common  among  Germans;  but  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meet- 
ing him  more  than  once,  and  found  that  the  outer  shell 
covered  a  kernel  of  good  humor  and  good  feeling. 

Like  many  other  authors,  MUgge  has  received  hardly  as 
much  honor  in   his   own   country  as   he   deserves.     His 
"Afraja,"  one  of  the  most  remarkable  romances  of  this 
generation,  is  just  begiiming  to  be  read  and  valued.     He 
was  entirely  unaccpiainted  wiih  the  fact  that  it  had  been 
translated  in  America,  where  five  or  six  editions  were  sold 
in  a  very  few  months.    I  could  give  him  no  better  evidence 
of  its  success  than  the  experience  of  a  friend  of  mine,  who 
was  carried  thirteen  miles  past  hi-    ome,  on  a  New-Haven 
railroad  train,  whUo  absorbed  in  .a  pages.     He  informed 
me  that  the  idea  of  the  story  was  suggested  to  him  during 
his  residence  at  Tromsoo,  on  the  Norwegian  coast,  where, 
among  some  musty  official  records,  he  found  the  minutes  of 
the  last  trial  and  execution  of  a  Lapp  for  witchcraft,  about 
a  century  ago.    This  Lapj),  who  was  a  sort  of  Chieftain  in 
his  clan,  had  been  applied  to  by  some  Danish  traders  to 
furnish  them  with  good  wind  dining  their  voyage.      He 
sold  them  breezes  from  the  right  quarter,  but  the  vessel 
was  wrecked  and  all  hands  drowned.     When  asked,  during 
his  trial,  whether  he  had  not  furnished  a  Lad-  instead  of  a 
good  wind,  he  answered  haughtily:  "Yes,  I  sold  them  the 


[■■>■  i\ 


350 


AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


bad  wiiul,  bcca-.'se  I  liatcd  them,  as  1  hate  you,  and  all  the 
brood  of  thieves  who  have  robbed  me  and  my  people  of 
our  land."  I  referred  to  the  character  of  J^  iels  Ilelgestad, 
and  spoke  of  his  strong  resemblance,  in  many  respects,  to 
one  of  our  Yankee  traders  of  the  harder  and  coarser  kind. 
Mflgge  assured  me  that  I  would  find  many  of  the  same 
type  still  existing,  when  I  should  visit  the  Lofoden  isles. 
He  spent  a  Summer  among  the  scenes  described  in  "Afraja," 
and  his  desc  'ptions  arc  so  remarkably  faithful  that  Alex- 
ander Ziegler  used  the  book  as  his  best  guide  in  goiug  over 
the  same  ground. 


XXIX. 


ALEXANDER  VQN  HUMBOLDT. 


I  CAME  to  Berlin  for  the  first  time,  in  November,  1856,  not 
to  visit  its  museums  and  galleries,  its  magnificent  street  of 
lindens,  its  operas  and  theatres,  nor  to  mingle  in  the  gay 
life  of  its  streets  and  salons,  but  for  the  sake  of  seeing  and 
speaking  with  the  world's  greatest  living  man-AlexInder 
von  Humboldt. 

At  that  time,  with  his  groat  age  and  his  universal  renowii, 
regarded  as  a  throned  monarch  in  the  world  of  science,  his 
friends  were  obliged,  perforce,  to  protect  him  from  the'  ex- 
haustive homage  of  his  thousands  of  subjects,  and,  for  his 
own  sake,  to  make  difficult  the  ways  of  access  to  him.  The 
friend  and  familiar  companion  of  the  king,  he  might  be 
said,  equally,  to  hold  his  own  court,  with  the  privilege, 
however,  of  at  any  time  breaking  through  the  formalities 
which  only  self-defence  had  rendered  necessary.  Some  of 
my  works,  I  '  -     -  - 


ii 
i1 


352 


AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 


ti 


.-f     M 


,   M 
'    .if 


was  at  the  beginning  of  a  jou'-  -^y  which  would  probably 
lead  me  through  regions  whic  his  feet  had  traversed  and 
his  genius  illustrated,  and  it  was  not  m<  rely  a  natural 
curiosity  which  attracted  me  towards  him.  I  followed  the 
advice  of  some  German  friends,  and  made  use  of  no  media- 
tory influence,  but  simply  dispatched  a  note  to  him,  stating 
my  name  and  object,  and  asking  for  an  interview. 

TJiree  days  afterwards  I  received  through  the  city  post 
a  reply  in  his  own  hand,  stating  tliat,  although  he  was 
suffering  from  a  cold  which  had  followed  his  removal  from 
Potsdam  to  the  capital,  he  would  willingly  receive  me,  and 
appointed  one  o'clock  the  next  daj  for  the  visit.  I  was 
punctual  to  the  minute,  and  reached  his  residence  in  the 
Oranienburger-strasse,  as  the  clock  struck.  While  in  Berlin, 
he  lived  with  his  servant,  Seifert,  whose  name  only  I  found 
on  the  door.  It  was  a  plnin  two-story  house,  with  a  dull 
pink  front,  and  inhabited,  like  most  of  the  houses  in 
German  cities,  by  two  or  -hree  families.  The  bell-wire 
over  Seifert's  name  came  from  the  second  story,  I  pulled : 
the  heavy parte-cocMre  opened  of  'fself,  and  I  mounted  the 
steps  until  I  reached  a  second  bell-pull,  over  a  plate  in- 
scribed "Alexander  von  Humboldt." 

A  stout,  square-faced  man  of  about  fifty,  w  lom  I  at  once 
recognised  as  Seifeit,  opened  the  door  for  me.  "Are  you 
Herr  Taylor?"  he  asked;  and  added,  on  receiving  my 
reply:  "Ilis  Excellency  is  ready  to  receive  you."  TTe 
ushered  me  into  a  room  filled  with  stuffed  birds  and  othor 
objects  ot  natural  history  ;  then  into  a  large  library,  which 
apparently  contained  the  gi^s  of  authors,  artists,  and  men 
of  science.     I  walked  between  two  long  tables  heaped  with 


ALEXANDElt   TON    HUMBOLDT. 


858 


sumptuous  folios,  to  the  further  door,  which  opened  iuto  the 
study.  Those  who  have  seen  the  admirable  colored  litho- 
graph of  Hlldebrand's  picture,  know  precisely  how  the 
room  looks.  There  was  the  plain  table,  the  writing-desk 
covered  with  letters  and  manuscripts,  the  little  green  sofa, 
and  the  same  maps  and  pictures  on  the  drab-colored  walls. 
The  picture  had  been  so  long  hanging  in  ray  own  room  at 
home,  that  I  at  once  recognised  each  particular  object. 

Seifert  went  to  an  inner  door,  announced  my  name,  and 
Huml  oldt  immediately  appeared,  flo  came  up  to  me  with 
a  heartiness  and  cordiality  which  made  me  feel  that  I  was  in 
the  presence  of  a  friend,  gave  me  his  hand,  and  inquired 
whether  we  should  converse  in  EngUsh  or  German.  "  Your 
letter,"  said  he,  "  was  that  of  a  German,  and  you  must 
certainly  speak  the  language  familiarly ;  but  I  am  also  in 
the  constant  habit  of  using  English."  He  insisted  on  m^^ 
taking  one  end  of  the  green  sofa,  observing  that  he  rarSly 
sat  upon  it  himself,  then  drew  up  a  plain  cane-bottomed 
chair  and  seated  himself  beside  it,  asking  me  to  speak  a 
little  louder  than  usual,  as  his  hearing  was  not  so  acute  as 
formerly. 

As  I  looked  at  the  majestic  old  man,  the  line  of  Tennyson, 
describing  Wellington,  came  into  my  raind :  "Oh,  good 
gray  head,  which  all  men  knew."  The  first  impression 
made  by  Humboldt's  face  was  that  of  a  broad  and  genial 
humanity.  His  massive  brow,  heavy  with  the  gathered 
wisdom  of  nearly  a  century,  bent  forward  and  overhung 
his  breast,  like  a  ripe  ear  of  corn,  but  as  you  looked  below 
it,  a  pair  of  clear  blue  eyes,  almost  as  bright  and  steady  as 
a  child's,  met  your  own.    In  those  eyes  you  read  that  trust 


I   :  ^ 


854 


AT  UOME  AND  ABROAD. 


in  man,  that  immortal  youth  of  the  heart,  v.hich  made  the 
snows  of  eighty-seven  Winters  lie  so  lightly  upon  his  head. 
You  trusted  him  utterly  at  the  first  glance,  and  you  felt 
that  he  would  trust  you,  if  you  were  worthy  of  it.  I  had 
approached  him  Avith  a  natural  feeling  of  reverence,  but  in 
live  minutes  I  found  that  I  loved  him,  and  could  talk  with 
him  as  fleely  as  Avith  a  friend  of  my  own  age.  His  nose, 
mouth,  and  chin  had  the  heavy  Teutonic  character,  whose 
genuine  tyi)e  always  expresses  an  honest  simplicity  and 
directness. 

I  was  most  surprised  by  the  youthful  character  of  his 
face.      I  knew  that  lie  had  been  frequently  hidisposed 
during  the  year,  and  had  been  told  that  he  was  becinnino- 
to  show  the  marks  of  his  extreme  age,  but  I  should  not 
have  suspected  him  of  being  over  seventy-five.     His  wrin- 
kles were  few  and  small,  and  his  skin  had  a  smoothness  and 
delicacy  rarely  seen  in  old  men.     His  hair,  although  snoAV- 
Avhite,  Avas  still  abundant,  his  step  sloAV  but  firm,  and  his 
manner  active  almost   to  restlessness.     He   slept  but  four 
hours  out  of  the  tAventy-four,  road  and  replied  to  his  daily 
rain  of  letters,  and  suffered  no  single  occuri-ence  of  the  least 
interest  in  any  part  of  the  Avorld  to  escape  his  attention.     I 
could  not  perceive  that  his  memory,  the  first  mental  faculty 
to  shoAV  decay,  was  at  all  impaired.     He  talked  rajjidly, 
with  the  greatest  apparent  ease,  never  hesitating  for  a  Avord, 
Avhether  in  English  or  German,  and,  in  fact,  seemed  to  be 
unconscious  which  language  he  was  using,  as  he  changed 
five  or  six  times  in  the  course  of  the  c«onversation.     He  did 
not  remain  in  his  chair  more  than  ten  minutes  at  a  time, 
frequently  getting  up  and  Avalking  about  the  room,  now  and 


ALEXANDER   VON   HUMBOLDT.  355 

then  pointing  to  a  picture  or  opening  a  book  to  illustrate 
some  remark. 

He  began  by  referring  to  my  winter  journey  into  Lap, 
innd.     "Why  do  you   choose  the  winter?"   he  asked- 
"Your  experiences  will  be  very  interesting,  it  i.s  true,  but 
w.  11  you  not  suffer  from  the  severe  cold?  »     "That  remains 
to  be  seen,"  I  answered.     "  I  have  tried  all  climates  except 
the   Arctic,  without  the  least  injury.     The  last  two  years 
of  my  travels  were  spent  in  tropical  countries,  and  now  I 
Mish  to  have  the  strongest  possible  contrast."     "That  is 
quite  natural,"  he  remarked,  "and  I  can  understand  how 
your  object  in  travel  must  lead  you  to  seek  such  contrasts  • 
h'^^  you  n.ust  possess  a  reu.arkably  healthy  organization.'^ 
^u..  doubtless  know,  from  your  own  experience,"  I  said 
"that    nothing    preserves  a  man's   vitality  like   travel" 
"\ory  true,"  he  answered,   "if  it  does  not  kill  at  the 
outset.     For  my  part,  I  keep  my  health  everywhere,  like 
,^urself.     During  five   years  in  South  America  and  the 
West  Indies,  I  passed  through  the  midst  of  black  vomit 
and  yellow  fever  untouched." 

I  spoke  of  my  projected  visit  to  Russia,  and  my  desire 
to  traverse  the  Rus.ian-Tartar  provinces  of  Central  Asia. 
The  Ku-ghiz  steppes,  he  said,  were  very  monotonous;  fifty 
"Hie,  gave  you  t'  ^  p.'cture  of  a  thousand;  but  the  people 
More  exceedingly  interesting.     If  I  desired  to  go  there   I 
-ould  have  no  difficulty  in  passing  through  them  to  the 
Unnesefro,     t;  but  the  southern  provinces  of  SH.eria  he 
thought,  would  best  repay  me.     The  scenery  among '.he 
Altai  Mountains  was  very  grand.    From  his  window  in  one 
of  the  Siberian  towns,  he  had  co.mted  eleven  peaks  covered 


*  -Te5i^s:->.»<-vt'  - ; 


356 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


with  eternal  snow.  The  Kirghizes,  he  added,  were  among 
the  few  races  whose  habits  had  remained  unchanged  for 
thousands  of  years,  and  they  had  the  remarkable  pecu- 
liarity of  combining  a  monastic  with  a  nomadic  life.  They 
were  partly  Buddhist  and  partly  Mussulman,  and  their 
;nonkish  sects  followed  the  different  clans  in  their  wander- 
ings, carrying  on  their  devotions  in  the  encampments, 
inside  of  a  sacred  circle  marked  out  by  spears.  He  had 
seen  their  ceremonies,  and  was  struck  with  their  resem- 
blance to  those  of  the  Catholic  church. 

Humboldt's  recollections  of  the  Altai  Mountains  natu- 
rally led  him  to  speak  of  the  Andes.  "You  have  travelled 
in  Mexico,"  said  he :  "  do  you  not  agree  with  me  in  the 
opinion  that  the  finest  mountains  in  t'le  world  are  those 
single  cones  of  perpetual  snow  rising  out  of  the  splendid 
vegetation  of  the  tropics  ?  The  Himalayas,  although  lof- 
tier, can  scarcely  make  an  equal  impression ;  they  lie 
further  to  the  north,  without  the  belt  of  tropical  growths, 
and  their  sides  are  dreary  and  sterile  in  comparison.  You 
remember  Orizaba,"  continued  he  ;  "  here  is  an  engraving 
from  a  rough  sketch  of  mine.  I  hope  you  will  find  it 
correct."  He  rose  and  took  down  the  illustrated  folio 
which  accompanied  the  last  edition  of  his  "  IVIinor  Writ- 
ing's," turned  over  the  leaves  and  recalled,  at  each  plate, 
some  reminiscence  of  his  American  travel.  "  I  still  think,'' 
he  remarked  as  he  closed  the  book,  "  that  Chimborazo  is 
the  grandest  mountain  in  the  world." 

Among  the  objects  in  his  study  was  ^  living  chameleon, 
in  a  box  with  a  glass  lid.  Tho  animal,  which  was  about 
six  inches  long,  was  lazily  dozing  on  a  bed  of  sand,  with  a 


ALEXAXDEU   VON   HUMBOLDT.  357 

big  bhie-fly  (the   unconscious  provision   for   his   dinner) 
perched  upon  his  back.     "He  has  just  been  sent  to  me 
from  Smyrna,"  said  Humboldt ;  «  he  is  very  listless  and 
unconcerned  in  his   manner."     Just  then  the   chameleon 
opened  one  of  his  long,  tubular  ey«,  and  looked  up  at  us 
"A  peculiarity  of  this  animal,"  he  continued,  « is  its  poM^er 
of  looking  in  different  directions  at  the  same  time.     He 
can  turn  one  eye  towards  heaven,  while  with  the  other  he 
inspects  the  earth.    There  are  many  clergymen  who  have 
the  same  power." 

After  showing  me  some  of  Hildebrand's   water-color 
drawings,  he  returned  to  his  seat  and  began  to  converse 
about  American   affairs,    with   which   he    seemed   to   be 
entirely    ^miliar.     He  spoke   with   great   admiration   of 
Colonel  Fremoat,  whose  defeat  he  profoundly  regretted. 
"But  it  is  at  least  a  most  cheering  sign,"  he  said,  "and 
an  omen  of  good  for  your  country,   that    more    than  a 
million  of  men   supported  by  their  votes  a  man  of  Fre- 
mont's  character   and   achievements."    With    regard   to 
Buchanan,  he  Wd :    "I   had   occasion   to    speak"  of  his 
Ostend  Manifesto  not  long  since,  in   a  letter  which   has 
been  published,  and  I  could  not  characterize  its  spirit  by 
any  milder   term   than   savage:^    He  also  spoke  of  our 
authors,  and  inquired  particularly  after  Washington  Irving, 
whom  he  had  once  seen.     1  told  him  I  had  the  fortune  To 
know  Mr.  Irving,  and  had  seen  Jiim  not  long  before  leaving 
New  York.     "He  must  be  at  least  fifty  years  old,"  said 
Humboldt.     "  He  is  seventy,"  I  answered,  "  but  as  voun- 
as  ever."     "Ah!"  said  he,  "I  have  lived  so  long  Ihat  I 
have  almost  lost  the   consciousness   of  time.     I  belong 


:i ' 


558 


AT   HOME   AND   AUROAD. 


m 


to  tlio  age   of  Jofforsoii   and   Gallatin,   :u)<l   I   heard   of 
Washington's  death  while,  travelling  in  South  America." 

I  have  repeated  but  the  smallest  portion  of  his  conver- 
sation, which  flowed  on  in  an  uninterrupted  stream  of  the 
richest  knowledge.  On  recalling  it  to  my  mind,  after 
leaving,  I  was  surprised  to  find  how  great  a  number  of 
subjects  he  had  touched  upon,  and  how  much  he  had  said, 
or  seemed  to  have  said — for  he  had  the  rare  faculty  of 
placing  a  subject  in  the  clearest  and  most  vivid  liglit  by  a 
few  luminous  words — concerning  each.  He  thought,  as  ho 
talked,  without  effort.  I  should  compare  his  brain  to  the 
fountain  of  Yaucluse — a  still,  deep,  and  tranquil  pool, 
without  a  ri])ple  on  its  surface,  but  creating  a  river  by 
its  overflow.  He  asked  me  many  questions,  but  did  not 
always  wait  for  an  answer,  the  question  itself  suggesting 
some  reminiscenco  or  some  thought  which  he  had  evident 
pleasure  in  expressing.  I  sat  or  walked,  following  his 
movements,  an  eager  listener,  and  speaking  in  alternate 
English  and  German,  until  the  time  which  he  had  granted 
to  me  had  expired.  Seifert  at  length  reapi^eared  and  said 
to  him,  in  a  manner  at  once  respectful  and  familiar,  "  It  is 
time,"  and  I  took  my  leave. 

"  You  have  travelled  much,  and  seen  many  ruins,"  said 
Humboldt,  as  he  gave  me  his  hand  again;  "now  you 
have  seen  one  more."  "  Xot  a  ruin,"  I  could  not  help  reply- 
ing, "  but  a  pyramid."  For  I  pressed  the  hand  which  had 
touched  those  of  Frederick  the  Great,  of  Forster,  the 
companion  of  Capt.  Cook,  of  Klopstock  and  Schiller,  of 
Pitt,  Napoleon,  Josephine,  the  Marshals  of  the  Empire, 
Jefferson,  Hamilton,  Wieland,  Herder,  Goethe,  Cuvier,  La 


ALEXANDER   VOX   HUMBOLDT.  359 

Place,  Gay-Lussac,  Beethoven,  Walter  Scott-in  short  of 
every  groat  man  whom  Europe  has  produced  for  three- 
quarters  of  a  century.     I  looked  into  the  eyes  which  had 
not  only  seen  this  living  history  of  the  world  pass  by 
scene  after  scene,  till  the  actors  retired  one  by  one  to 
return  no  more,  but  had  beheld  the  cataract  of  Atures  Ld 
the  forests  of  the  Cassiquiare,  Chimborazo,  the  Amazon 
and  Popocatepetl,  the  Altaian  Alps  of  Siberia,  the  Tartar 
steppes,  and  the  Caspian  Sea.     Such  a  splendid  circle  of 
experience  well  befitted  a  life  of  such  generous  dev  otion 
to  science.    I  have  never  seen  so  sublime  an  example  of 
old  age-crowned  with   imperishable  success,  full  of  the 
ripest  wisdom,  cheered  and  sweetened  by  the  noblest  attri 
butes   of   the  heart.     A  ruin,   indeed!     No:    a  hmuan 
temple,  perfect  as  the  Parthenon. 

As  I  was  passing  out  through  the  cabinet  of  Natural 
History,  Seifert's  voice  arrested  me.     "  I  beg  your  pardon, 
Sir,"  said  he,  ''but  do  you  know  what  this  is?"  pointin^r 
to  the  antlers  of  a  Rocky-Mountain  elk.     «  Of  course  I 
do,"  said  I,  "  I  have  helped  to  eat  many  of  them."     He 
then  pointed  out  the  other  specimens,  and  took  me  into 
the  library  to  show  me  some  drawings  by  his  son-in-law, 
Mollhausen,  who  had  accompanied  Lieut.  Whipple  in  his 
expedition  to  the  Rocky  Mountains.    He  also  showed  me 
a  very  elaborate  specimen  of  bead-work,  in  a  gilt  frame. 
"This,"  he  said,  "is  the  work  of  a  Ivirghiz  princess,  who 
presented  it  to  His  Excellency  when  we  were  on  our  jour- 
ney to  Siberia."    «  You  accompanied  His  Excellency  then  ?'' 
I  asked.     «  Yes,"  said  he ;  «  we  were  there  in  '29."    Seifert 
IS  justly  proud  of  having  shared  for  thirty  or  forty  years 


3G0 


AT  nOMK   AND   ABROAD. 


the  fortunes  of  his  master.  There  was  a  ring,  and  a  ser- 
vant came  in  to  annoiuice  a  visitor.  "Ah,  the  Prince 
Ypsilanti,"  said  lie :  "  don't  let  him  in ;  don't  let  a  single 
soul  in ;  I  must  go  and  dress  Ilis  Excellency.  Sir,  excuse 
,ne — yours,  most  respectfully,"  and  therewith  he  bowed 
himself  out.  As  I  descended  to  the  street,  I  passed  Prince 
Ypsilanti  on  the  stairs. 


In  October,  185Y,  I  was  once  more  in  Berlin,  on  my  re- 
turn from  the  North  of  Europe.  As  I  had  some  business 
to  transact,  which  would  detain  me  three  or  four  days,  I 
sent  a  note  to  Huiiiboldt,  asking  permission  to  call  upon 
him  again,  in  case  his  time  permitted  the  visit.  The  next 
day's  express  from  Potsdam  brought  me  a  most  kind  and 
friendly  reply,  welcoming  me  back  to  the  "Baltic  sand- 
sea,"  as  he  called  the  Brandenburg  plain,  and  stating  that, 
although  the  Emperor  Alexander  and  his  suite  were  to 
arrive  that  evening,  he  would  nevertheless  take  an  hour  or 
two  from  the  excitement  of  the  Court  to  talk  to  me  about 
the  North.  lie  wn-  residing  in  the  Palace  at  Potsdam, 
where  he  directed  me  to  call  at  noon  on  Monday. 

The  train  by  which  I  left  Berlin  was  filled  with  officers 
and  diplomatic  officials  in  full  uniform,  going  down  to  do 
homage  to  the  Czar.  In  the  carriage  in  which  I  sat,  were 
two  old  gentlemen  who  presently  commenced  conversing  in 
French.  After  a  time,  their  talk  wandered  to  the  Orient, 
and  they  spoke  of  Diebitsch  and  his  campaigns,  and  the 
treaty  of  Unkiar-Iskelessi.  Suddenly,  one  of  them  asked 
in  Arabic,  "  Do  you  speak  Arabic  ?"    The  other  answered 


ALKXAXDER   VON   HUMBOLDT.  351 

in  Turkish,  "No,  but  I  speak  Turkish."  The  first  replied 
in  the  same  language,  which,  after  a  time,  the  two  exchang- 
ed  for  Modern  Greek,  and  finally  subsided  into  Russian.  I 
made  out  that  one  was  a  Wallachian,  but  could  discover 
nothing  more,  notwithstanding  there  was  an  air  of  a 
secret  mission  about  them,  which  greatly  piqued  my 
curiosity. 

Potsdam  was  all  alive  with  the  Imperial  arrival.    The 
King  of  Saxony  was  also  coming  to  dinner;  and,  that  the 
three  monarchs  might  be  pleasantly  diverted  in  the  even- 
ing, the  sparkling  Marie  Taglioni,  who  ha.l  arrived  with 
us,  tripped  out  of  the  cars  and  off  to  the  Royal  Theatre. 
The  park  at  Sans  Souci  was  in  brilliant  holiday  trim,  the 
walks  newly  swept,  and  the  fountains  jetting  their  tallest 
and  brightest  streams.     The  streets  of  the  duU  little  court- 
town  glittered  with  resj.lendent  uniforms,  among  which 
the  drive-  of  my  carriage  pointed  out  Carl,  Albert,  and 
various  other  princes  of  the  House  of  Prussia.     As  we 
were  crossing  an  open  space  near  the  palace,  a  mounted 
guard,  followed  by  an  open  carriage,  drawn  by  a  span  of 
superb  black  horses,  suddenly  appeared.     I  at  once  recog- 
nised the  punchy  figure  in  a  green  mUitary  coat,  buttoned 
up  to  the  chin,  who  sat  on  the  right  hand,  although  I  had 
never  before  seen  his  Majesty.     My  driver  reined  up  on 
one  side  and  took  off  his  hat.    I  lifted  mine  as  the  King 
passed,  looked  at  him,  and  he  replied  with  a  miUtary  salute. 
His  face  was  slightly  flushed  and  his  eyes  bright,  and  I 
remember  thinking  that  the  heavy  and  rather  stupid  air 
which  he  wears  in  his  portraits  did  him  injustice.     But  he 
was  even  then  laboring  under  that  congestion  which  struck 

16 


I 


362 


▲T   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


him  down  the  same  night,  and  from  the  effects  of  which  he 
will  never  recover. 

I  was  glad  when  the  clock  struck  twelve  at  last,  and  I 
could  leave  the  rattling  streets  for  that  quiet  comer  of  the 
palace  in  which  Humboldt  lives.  The  door  was  opened,  as 
before,  by  Seifert,  who  recognised  me  at  once.  "  Welcome 
back ! "  he  cried ;  "  we  know  where  you  have  been — we 
have  read  all  your  letters .'  His  Excellency  has  been  quite 
sick,  and  you  will  not  find  him  so  strong  as  he  was  last 
year,  but  he  is  in  tolerable  health  again,  thank  God !  Come 
in,  come  in;  he  is  waiting."  Opening  the  door  as  he  spoke, 
he  ushered  me  into  a  little  library,  on  the  threshold  of 
which  Humboldt,  who  had  risen,  received  me.  He  was 
slightly  paler  than  before,  a  little  thinner,  perhaps,  and  I 
could  see  that  his  step  was  not  so  firm  ;  but  the  pale-blue 
eye  beamed  as  clear  an  intelligence  as  ever,  and  the  voice 
had  as  steady  and  cheery  a  tone.  He  shook  hands  with 
the  cordiality  of  a  friend,  and,  after  the  first  greetings  were 
over,  questioned  me  minutely  concerning  my  travels  in  the 
North. 

But  one  topic  soon  suggests  a  hundred  others,  and  he 
was  ere  long  roaming  at  large  over  the  whole  field  of  geo- 
graphy and  climatology,  touching  the  farthest  and  darkest 
regions  of  the  earth  with  the  light  of  his  stupendous 
knowledge.  The  sheets  of  the  new  volume  of  Cosmos  lay 
upon  the  table.  "  Here  is  what  I  have  been  doing,  since 
you  were  here  before,"  said  he,  taking  it  up,  "  the  work 
will  be  published  in  two  or  three  weeks."  "You  find 
yourself,  then,  still  capable  of  such  labor  ?  "  I  ventured  to 
ask.     "Work  is  now  a  part  of  my  life,"  said  he;  "I  sleep 


ALDiNDKK   VON   HUMBOLDT. 

.o  M..le  .„d  much  ret  would  be  irkao,„e.    Day  before  yes^ 

oniay  I  worked  for  .«eeu  hour,  reviewing  those  oheeL: 

Are  you  no.  greatly  fatigued,"  I  asked,  "after  a„ch  L 

oxert.„„..    ..o„  the  eoutrary."  he  r.nX''l7^  7. 

leiicct,  1  could  well  believp  if      t  i,    i      • ,   ,  ** 

I      .  "t^ucve  It.     I  had  prided  myself  a  lift!» 

on  hav,„.  „    ,„a  with  the  brain  fifteen  bours  a  d  y  o  " 

capable  ot  an  equal  exertion. 

The  manner  in  which  he  spoke  of  his  bodily  health  «• 
exceedingly  interesting  to  me.    HU  mind,  full  'of  ^  Z 
-erflowmg  ^-i^  „,,,e  life,  seemed  to  consider  the  body 
■«  -methmg  independent  of  itselt;  and  to  watch  wW,  I 

that  of  a  tree  m  his  younger  days.    "I  have  been  unwell 
trough  the  Su,nmer."  said  he,  "  but  you  must  not  belie  I 

ere:;:?" ''"°'*-^''"-""--"'"«™-"-" 

Ihey  stated  that  I  was  attacked  with  apoplexy,  but  it  wns 

only  a  vert,g„,  which  soon  left  me,  and  has  nt  bee    Z 

owed  by  any  of  the  usual  effects  of  apoplcvy.    One  resuft 

however,  shows  that  my  body  is  beginning  .'  gK,  wa^    I 

»r°:h       r;  ^"--^  — "»«  -y  Umbs  as'for. 

raerlj     the  w,ll  does  not  seem  to  act  upon  the  mu«=les  • 

Kcre  .s  a  link  broken  somewhere,  which  it  is  probaCo' 

.e  to  restore.    For  instance,  very  often,  when  I  attlm, 

o  walk  ,.ra,ght  forward,  I  do  not  feel  certain  that  n,y  lei 

'V.11  carry  me  in  a  straight  line ;  they  „u,y  go  either  to  one 


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AT   HOM£   AND   ABROAD. 


side  or  the  other,  and,  though  I  cannot  notice  any  real 
Avant  of  strength,  I  feel  uncertain  and  mistrustful.  For 
this  reason,  I  must  have  assistance  when  I  go  up  or  down 
stairs.  After  all,  it  is  not  singular  that  some  parts  of  the 
machinery  should  get  rusty  at  my  age."  Soon  afterwards, 
while  speaking  of  Thibet,  he  referred  to  a  very  fine  copper- 
plate map,  and  I  noticed  that  he  saw  the  most  minute 
names  distinctly,  without  the  aid  of  spectacles.  But  then 
he  had  the  eyes  of  a  youth  of  twenty  years.  Age  might 
palsy  his  limbs,  but  it  never  looked  out  of  those  windows. 

After  I  had  been  sitting  an  hour,  Seifert  came  to  the 
door  and  said :  "  The  two  gentlemen  have  come— shall  I 
admit  them?"    I  rose  to  leave,  but  Humboldt  said :  "  No, 
no— remain.     They  are  from  Hong-Kong:   perhaps  you 
know  them."     I  looked  at  the  cards,  and  recognised  an 
acquaintance  in  the  name  of  the  editor  of  a  Hong-Kono- 
paper.     The  other  was  a  Government  official.    After  they 
entered,  the  conversation  took  a  more  general  tone,  but  I 
was  not  sorry  for  this  afterwards,  as  it  gave  Humboldt  occa- 
sion to  recall  some  scenes  of  his  early  life.     One  of  the 
visitors  spoke  of  Frederick  the  Great.     "  I  remember  him 
well,"  said  Humboldt,  "  I  was  sixteen  years  old  when  ha 
died,  and  I  can  see  his  face  still  as  plainly  as  I  can  see 
yours.     I  was  but  eighteen  when  I  visited  England  for  the 
first  time.     It  was  during  the  trial  of  Warren  Hastino's 
which  I  frequently  attended.     I  remember  that  I  heard 
Edmund  Burke,  Pitt,  and  Sheridan  all  speak  on  the  same 
night." 

After  the  visitor?  left,  I  remained  with  him  until  it  was 
time  for  him  to  prepare  for  the  'dinner  given  to  Alexander 


ALEXANnFB   voN   HUMBOLDT.  365 

II.,  to  Which  he  was  bidden.     «Yoa  will  pass  throu^^h 
Berhn   on   your  way  to    Moscow?"    said   he.      "  Ye^' 
"  Well-I  must  be  polite  enough  to  live  until  then.     You 
must  bring  your  wife  with  you.     Oh,  I  know  all  about  it 
and  you  .nust  not  think,  because  I  have  never  been  married 
myself,  that  I  do  not  congratulate  you."    After  these  cor 
dial  words,  and  a  clasp  of  the  hand,  in  which  there  was 
nothmg  weak  or  tremulous,  I  parted  from  the  immortal 
old  man. 


XXX. 

SUMMER  GOSSIP  FROM  ENGLAND. 


[1  867.1 


U 


i 


As  it  was  necessary  that  I  should  visit  London  on  matters 
of  busmess,  before  proceeding  to   Norway,  I  took  the 
opportunity  of  accompanying  my  brother  and  sisters  as  far 
as  Southampton,  on  their  voyage  home.    Leaving  Gotha 
on  the  9th  of  June,  we  wen  j  by  rail  to  Bremen,  by  way  of 
Cassel  and  Hanover.    The  only  thing  in  the  former  city 
which  we  had  time  to  visit  was  the  celebrated  Rathsheller, 
or  crypt  of  the  old  Hall  of  Council.    This  is  renowned 
through  all  Germany  for  its  tuns  of  Rhenish  wine,  of  the 
most  undoubted  antiquity.     They  are  kept  in  great  vaults, 
distinguished  by  different  titles.    That  of  the  "Twelve 
Apostles"  has  been  immortalized  by  Hauff  and  Heine,  but 
the  apostolical  wines  are  not  so  fine  as  those  authors  would 
have  us  believe.    Each  cask  bears  the  name  of  one  of  the 
Apostles;  they  contain  wine  of  the  vintage  of  1718,  which 


SUMMER  GOSSIP   PBOM  BNOLAND. 


367 


has  now,  I  was  informed,  a  pungent  acid  flavor.  That  of 
Judas,  alone,  retains  a  pleasant  aroma,  and  the  sinner, 
therefore,  is  in  greater  demand  than  all  the  saints  together. 
In  the  "Rose  Cellar''  are  enormous  casks,  yet  filled  with 
Ilockheimer  (Hock)  of  the  vintage  of  1624.  For  a  couple 
of  centuries  it  was  carefully  treasured,  but  the  City 
Fathers  of  Bremen  finally  discovered  that  the  longer  it 
^^-as  kept  the  worse  it  grew,  and  now  sell  it  to  visitors, 
in  small  bottles,  at  a  moderate  price. 

We  sat  do^vn  in  one  of  the  stalls  in  the  outer  cellar, 
and  had  a  bottle  uncorked.    Think  of  drinking  wine  which 
grew  when  the  Plymouth  Colony  was  but  four  years  old- 
of  the  same  vintage  which  Ariosto  mi^  i.c  have  drunk,  and 
Milton,   and  Cromwell,   and  Wallenstein,   and   Gustavus 
Adolphus!     Shakespeare  had  been  dead  but  eight  years 
when   the   grapes   were  trodden   in  the  vats;    and   Ben 
Jonson  may  have  sung  his  "  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine 
eyes"  over  a  goblet  of  the  golden  juice.    We  filled  the 
glasses   with  great  solemnity  as  these    thoughts  passed 
through  our  minds— admired  its  dark,  smoky  color,  sniffed 
up  reverently  its  musky,  mummy-like  odor,  and  then  tasted. 
Fancy  a  mixture  of  oil  and  vinegar,  flavored  with  a  small 
drop  of  kreosote!     Thia,  as  I  afterwards  recognised,  was 
the  impression  made  upon  the  palate,  though  my  imagina- 
tion was  too  busy  at  the  time  to  be  aware  of  it.     We  all 
said,  "  It  is  not  so  bad  as  I  expected,"  and,  by  keeping  the 
fact  of  its  age  constantly  before  our  eyes,  succeeded  in 
emptying    the    bottle.     So  pungent,   however,   was  the 
smoky,  oily,  acidulous  flavor,  that  it  affected  my  palate 
for  fall  twenty-four  hours  afterwards,  and  everything  I 


\il\ 


1 
m 


368 


AT   HOME   AND   ABIiOAD. 


il 


.1- V 


ate  or  drauk  in  that  time  seemed  to  be  of  the  vintage  of 
1624. 

I  reached  London  in  season  to  hear  tlie  last  of  Handel's 
oratorios— Jsrae?  in  Eyypl—m  the  Palace  at  Sydenham. 
I  doubt  whether  any  composer,  dead  or  alive,  has  ever  had 
such  an  ovation.     Two  thousand  singers  and  nearly  three 
hundred  instrumental  performers  inter})reted  hii  choruses 
to  an  audience  of  more  than  seventeen  thousand  persons. 
The  coup  iVceil  alone  was  sublimer  than  any  picture.    The 
vast  amphithc-^tre  of  singers,  filling  up  the  whole  breadth 
of  the  western  transept,  stretched  off  into  space,  and  the 
simultaneous  turning  of  the  leaves  of  their  music  books 
was  like  the  appearance  of  "  an  army  with  banners,"  oi 
the  rustling  of  the  wind  in  a  mountain  forest.    We  were 
so  late  that  we  could  only  cling  to  the  outskirts  of  the 
multitude  below,  and  I  was  fearful  that  we  should  not  be 
able  to  hear  distinctly— but  I  might  as  well  have  feared 
not  hearing  the  thunder  in  a  cloud  over  my  head.     Not 
only  was  the  quarter  of  a  mile  of  palace  completely  filled 
with  the  waves  of  the  chorus,  in  every  part,  but  they  spread 
beyond  it,  and  flov/ed  audibly  over  the  hills  for  a  aiile 
around.     I  kept  ray  eye  on  the  leader.  Da  Costa,  whose 
single  arm  controlled   the  whirlwind.    He   lifted  it,  like 
Moses,  and  the  plagues  fell  upon  Egypt ;  he  waved  it,  and 
the  hailstones  smote,  crashing  upon  the  highways  and  the 
temple-roofs ;  he  stretched  it  forth,  and  the  Red  Sea  waves 
parted,  and  closed  again  on  the  chariots  of  Pharaoh.     He 
was  lord  of  the  tuneful  hosts  that  day,  and  Handel  him- 
self, as  he  wrote  the  scores  of  the  immortal  work,  could 
not  have  more  perfectly  incarnated  its  harmonies.    Follow- 


SUMMER   GOSSIP   FROM   EXGLAJID. 


369 


ing  him,  I  trod  in  the  thunder-marches  of  the  two-fold 
chorus,  and  stood  in  the  central  calm  of  the  stormy  whirls 
of  sound. 

There  is  no  doubt  that,  with  the  masses  of  the  English 
people,  Handel  is  the  most  popular  composer.    The  opera 
is  stiU  an  exotic,  not  yet  naturalized  to  their  tastes ;  but 
Handel,  with  his  seriousness,  his  cheerfulness,  his  earnest- 
ness, his  serene  self-reliance,  and  undaunted  daring,  speaks 
directly  to  the  English  heart.    His  very  graces  have  the 
simple  quaintness  of  the  songs  of  Shakespeare,  or  those 
touches  of  tender  fancy  which  glimmer  like  spots  of  sun- 
shine through  the  cathedral  gloom  of  Milton.    The  effect 
of  the  grand  performance,  however,  was  frequently  marred 
by  the  sharp,  dry  sound  of  senseless  clappings,  demanding 
an  encore,  which  Da  Costa  sensibly  refused  whenever  it 
was  possible.    We  who  stood  in  the  edges  of  the  crowd 
were  also  greatly  anno,  3d  by  the  creaking  boots  of  snobs 
who  W3nt  idly  walking  up  and  down  the  aisles,  and  the 
chatter  of  the  feminine  fools,  who  came  only  to  be  heard 
and  seen.    In  New  York  one  might  have  the  same  annoy- 
ance, but  by  no  possibility  could  it  happen  in  Germany. 

Bon  Giovanni  was  having  a  great  run  in  both  Italian 
Operas,  Grisi  and  Piccolomini  being  rivals  in  the  part  of 
Doima  Anna.  I  heard  the  former,  and  wondered  at  the 
consummate  skill  with  which  she  managed  a  failing  voice. 
Bosio  was  the  Zerlina^  but,  though  sweet  ard  graceful  as 
ever,  she  seemed  to  have  lost  something  since  she  was  in 
New  York,  five  or  six  years  before.  Herr  Formes,  as 
Leporello,  was  admirable,  and  Cerito  appeared  in  the  ballet 
scene  with  all  her  former  grace  and  beauty ;  but  the  Italian 


m.'  i 


I 


m 


370 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


Opera  in  London  is  not  now  what  it  was  in  Lumlej^'s  palmy 
days.     Entertainments  by  individuals— single-string   per- 
formers playing  on  "a  harp  of  a  thousand  strings"— are 
now  very  popular.     The  success  of  Albert  Smith  and  Gor- 
don Gumming  has  led  the  way  to  a  number  of  solo  per. 
form?  noes,  nearly  all  of  which  are  very  weli  attended.     Mr. 
Drayton  (an  American,  I  believe)  gives  what  he  calls  "  Il- 
lustrated Proverbs;"  Miss  P.  Horton  exhibits  something 
of  the  same  kind ;  Mr.  Woodin  pours  forth  an  "  Olio  of 
Oddities;"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilton  announce  their  "Evenings 
with  the  American  Poets,"  etc.     All  the  world  crowds  mi 
a  Sunday  to  hear  the  Rev.  Mr.  Spurgeon,  who  preaches  in 
the  Surrey  Musical  HaU.     He  is,  in  manner,  of  the  Beecher 
school,  but  with  less  ability,  and  impresses  principally  by 
his  earnestness  and  the  direct,  practical  nature  of  his  ser- 
mons.   People  seem  to  be  agreed  that  he  is  a  sincere  man, 
though  his  face,  as  it  appears  in  the  shop-windows,  is  any- 
thing  but  an  agreeable  one  to  look  upon— being  round  and 
full,  with  round  eyes,  flat,  flabby  cheeks,  a  pug  nose,  and 
short  lips,  gaping  apart  to  exhibit  some  very  prominent 
front  teeth. 

At  a  dinner-party  one  day  I  met  with  Layard,  and  King- 
laKe,  the  author  of  "  Eothen."  The  latter  is  a  small,  pale 
man,  with  blond  hair  and  moustache,  ar^d  bluish-gray  eyes. 
His  manner  is  quiet  and  subdued,  and  only  a  few  would 
guess  his  concealed  capacity  for  enthusiastic  feeling  and 
courageous  action.  He  had  just  entered  Parliament,  and 
broke  down  shortly  afterwards,  in  his  first  speech-but  it 
was  a  failure  which  only  stimulated  his  friends  to  believe 
the  more  firmly  in  his  future  success.     He  is  now  writing  a 


i\  ..^' 


SIMAIEK   tiOSSU*   KKOM    EXULAND. 


371 


History  of  the  Crimean  War,  M  of  -  hich  l,e  saw,  sharing 
U8  dangers  with  the  same  steady  nerve  which  he  opposed 
to  the  mfection  of  the  plague  in  Cairo.     Layard  is  a  man 
of  forty,  with  a  frank,  open,  energetic  face,  clea^  gray  eyes 
and  hair  prematurely  gray  about  the  temples.     He  had 
just  astonished  the  artistic  world  by  some  very  remarkable 
researches  which  he  had  been  m.king  in  Italy  during  the 
past  two  years.     Taking  Vasa-i  as  his  guide,  he  set  off 
upon  the  hunt  of  the  los.  frescoes  of  Giotto  and  other 
pamters  of  the  Pre-Raphaelite  period,  and  brcugi.t  back 
seven  hundred  tracings  of  works,  the  existence  of  which 
had  been  hitherto  unknown. 

I  heard  Dickens  read  his  "Christmas  Oaro!"  in  St.  Mar- 
tin's Hall,  to  an  audience  so  crowded  and  enthusiastic  as  to 
surprise  the  London  reporters,  though  its  equal  in  both 
these  respects  is  a  very  common  sight  in  America.    His 
readmg  of  the  dialogue  was  wonderfully  fine,  although  in 
the  narrative  parts  it  had  a  smack  of  the    tage,  and  a  ten- 
dency to  shrillness  at  the  end  of  every  phrase,  which  had 
a  curious  effect.     Dickens  is  now  in  his  forty-fifth  year,  and 
Time  IS  beginning  to  tell  upon  his  exuberant  locks,  but  his 
eye  has  all  its  old  keenness  and  sparkle.     "  Little  Dorrit  » 
though  acknowledged  on  all  sides  to  be  a  great  falling  off 
from  h,s  previous  stories,  has  had  a  more  extensive  sale 
than  anything  he  has  written-which  proves  the  truth  of  a 
sa>mg  of  old  Sam.  Rogers-that  there  is  only  one  thing 
harder  for  a  man  to  do  than  to  write  himself  down,  and 
that  is,  to  write  himself  up. 

Thackeray,  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all,  was  falsifying 
the  charges  of  the  rampantly  loyal  Canadian  papers,  by 


372 


AT   UOUK   AND   ABROAD. 


giving  his  lectures  on  the  Four  Georges  in  all  parts  of  the 
IJ  nited  Kingdom,  and  with  the  most  gratifying  success.  It 
is  cheering  to  see  a  man  of  his  independence  and  honesty 
rewarded  by  such  a  sound  and  steady  increase  of  popular 
respect  and  appreciation. 

I  spent  two  fortunate  days  at  Freshwater,  on  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  the  residence  of  Tennyson.  In  the  scenery  round 
about  the  poet's  residence,  I  recognised  many  lines  of 
"  Maud."  He  lives  in  a  charming  spot,  looking  out  on  one 
side  over  the  edges  of  the  chalk  cliffs,  to 


"  the  liquid  azure  bloom  of  a  crescent  of  sea, 
The  silent  sappliire-spangled  marriage-ring  of  the  land," 

and  on  the  other,  across  the  blue  channel  of  the  Solent,  to 
the  far-off  wavy  line  of  the  New  Forest,  on  the  northern 
horizon,  ^^ver  shall  I  forget  those  golden  hours  spent 
with  the  nobie  poet  and  noble  man,  on  the  rolling  windy 
downs  above  the  sea,  and  under  the  shade  of  his  own  ilex 
and  elm ! 

Buchanan  Head,  who  had  ji;st  come  from  Rome  to  fulfil 
Gome  painter's  engagements,  took  me  one  evening  to  visit 
Leigh  Hunt — the  sole  surviving  star  of  that  constellation 
which  dawned  upon  the  literature  of  England  with  the 
present  century.  The  old  poet  lives  in  a  neat  little  cottage 
in  Hammersmith,  quite  alone,  since  the  recent  death  of  his 
wife.  That  dainty  grace,  which  is  the  chief  charm  of  his 
poetry,  yet  lives  in  his  person  and  manners.  He  is  seventy- 
three  years  old,  but  the  effects  of  age  are  only  physical ; 
they  have  not  touched  that  buoyant,  joyous  nature,  which 
survives  in  spite  of  sorrow  and  misfortune.    His  deep-set 


SUMMSK   GOSSIP  FnOM   ENOI.aND.  ,Jj 

ey«s  ,tUl  beam  with  a  soa,  cheerful,  earnest  Iig,,t ;  hi»  voice 
»  gentle  a„<r™„sioa,.  a„a  hi,  ,,ai,  a,t„o,.«hl  .t  s  ^ 
wl..te,  faU,  ,„  fl„e,  ,i,k,  ,^,,  „„  j^^,_  ^.^^^  J 

t  wa«  gratefu,  .o  „,e  to  pre.  the  same  palm  .hieh  Kea t 

and  S  .eliey  had  so  often  clasped  in  Mendl,  warmth,  andt 

oar  h,m,  who  knew  them  so  we,,,  speak  of  them  Is  ,ong! 

Z  hTT"'-    ""  '"  "  "'"""'  ""■'-'"'°  «f  """"s  of 

ul  of  L  ""t  ?"  ''"*°" '° "™''"'"«-  -T'-  •'"« 

from  Mm       '  :    '  ''™''  ™""'  "  '^""^  ■>-«  »-■>  ".orn 
tiom  M.,ton's  head?  I  asked  my8e,f.     "Touch  it "  ,»1^ 

as  I  d,d  «>,  repea.n,g  a  iine  from  Hnnt^s  own  sonnet  on 
this  ,oek.    Shelley's  hair  wn.  ,„u  j 

a  bngh  brown,  curling  i„  Urg.  Bacchic  rings;  Dr 
Joms„„.s  gray,  with  a  harsh  and  wiry  feel;  Dean  sVift's' 
both  b,ow„  and  giay,  but  finer,  denoting  a  more  sensitive 

strong  I  was  dehghted  to  hear  Hunt  speak  of  poems 
which  he  stiU  designed  to  write,  as  if  the  age  of  ver" 
rf.ould  never  ceaae  with  one  in  whom  the  facuUy  is  boT 


XXXI 


THE  CASTLES  OF  THE  GLEIOHEN. 


[SEPTEMBEB,    1868.] 


No  part  of  Germany  is  so  rich,  either  in  romantic  legends 
or  in  picturesque  historical  associations,  as  that  portion  of 
ancient  ThUringia  which  is  now  parcelled  into  the  Duchies 
of  Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,  Saxe-Weimar,  and  Meiningen.  The 
range  of  mountains,  called  the  Thttringerwald  (ThUringian 
Forest),  the  Wartburg  wHh  its  memories  of  Luther  and  the 
Minnesingers,  and  the  beautiful  valleys  of  the  Saale  and  the 
Ilm,  have  become  not  only  storied,  but  classic  ground ;  yet, 
I  venture  to  say,  not  more  than  one  out  of  every  hundred 
of  the  American  travellers  who  visit  Germany  ever  see  more 
of  this  region  than  may  be  caught  from  the  window  of  a 
railway  carriage,  bound  from  Frankfurt  to  Leipzig.  To 
me,  many  of  those  spots  are  almost  as  familiar  as  the 
place  of  my  nativity ;  and  for  that  very  reason,  perhaps, 


THE   CASTLES   OP  THE   OLEICHEN.  375 

I  have  passed  them  by  unnoticed  in  former  narratives  of 
travel. 

Eastward  fiom  Gotha,  and  about  one-third  of  the  distance 
between  that  city  and  Erfurt,  three  isolated  peaks  rise  from 
the  plain  at  the  northern  foot  of  the  ThUringian  Mountains. 
Each  is  crowned  with  a  castle  of  the  Middle  Ages;  and 
the  three,  collectively,  are  known  far  and  wide  as  die  drei 
Gkichen  (The  Three  Similars),  on  account  of  the  resemblance 
in  their  position  and  general  ai.pcarance.     I  had  seen  these 
peaks  almost  daily  during  several  months  of  residence  in 
Gotha,  at  different  intervals-from  the  breezy  top  of  the 
Seeberg,  from  the  balcony  over  the  beer-flowing  streams 
of  the  WalkraUhle,  and  from  every  swell  in  the  undulating 
landscape  stretching  away  to  the  mountains.     Sometimes 
the  gray  wall  of  the  most  northern  of  the  three  castles,  rising 
over  a  conical  pile  of  foliage,   gleamed  like  gold  in  the 
setting  sun,  seeming  to  advance  nearer  and  nearer  as  the 
day  declined;  and  again,  in  the  blue  vapors  of  an  autumn 
noon,  it  would  recede  far  into  the  distance,  as  if  passing  into 
the  sphere  of  another  landscape  bejond.     So  picturesque 
and  suggestive  were  these  objects,  that  I  was  satisfied  to 
view  them  thus  afar  off,  and  felt  even  reluctant  to  destroy 
the  fascinating  uncertainty  in  which  they  lay  by  a  nearer 
approach. 

One  day  in  September,  however,  the  charm  was  broken 
—or,  as  it  proved  in  the  end,  intensified.  The  sunny 
sweetness  and  repose  of  early  autumn  proved  too  tempting. 
We  felt  an  intense  desire  to  explore  some  unknown  region; 
and  as  every  other  point  within  the  range  of  our  vision  was 
exhausted,  nothing  was  left  but  the  Gleichen.     Our  party 


876 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


consisted  of  four — Russian,  German,  and  American — 
mutually  resolved  to  devote  the  day  to  pleasure,  or  to  that 
something  still  better,  which  is  partly  expressed  by  the 
Italian,  dolce  far  nlente,  and  wholly  by  the  Arabic  key/, 
but  for  which  our  impetuous  Anglo-Saxon  blood  has  neither 
name  nor  idea.  I  had  learned  the  thing  itself  in  the  Orient, 
and  my  companions  were  all  apt  apprentices,  at  least.  The 
day  was  just  fitted  for  such  an  indulgence  (very  few  days 
in  our  climate  will  answer),  and  under  the  seats  in  our  easy 
open  caliche  were  stowed  a  variety  of  necessary  appliances 
— black  bread,  ham,  herrings,  Rhenish  Avine,  pipes,  and  the 
like.  Only  in  such  style  can  you  truly  taste  the  flavor  of 
the  Past. 

Leaving  the  Seeberg  on  our  left,  we  dipped  down  into 
a  warm,  rich  hollow  in  the  plain,  in  which  stands  the 
flourisliing  village  of  Wechmar.  It  had  been  devastated 
by  fire  a  few  days  before,  bitt  the  grape- /ines  still  hugged 
the  blackened  fronts  of  the  cottages,  with  their  leaves 
scorched  to  ashes  and  their  blue  clusters  dried  into  raisins. 
An  hour's  drive  over  the  plain  beyond  brought  us  to  two 
of  the  Gleichen,  which  take  their  names  from  the  villages 
of  Wandersleben  and  Mdhlberg,  nestled  at  their  respective 
bases.  The  peaks,  which  rise  to  the  height  of  five  or  six 
hundred  feet,  are  planted  at  the  entrance  of  a  valley  about 
half  a  mile  broad,  through  which  wanders  a  bright  little 
stream.  To  the  south-east,  three  or  four  miles  distant,  rises 
the  third,  or  Wachsenburg  Gleichen,  on  a  loftier,  but  less 
abrupt  and  picturesque  eminence. 

Leaving  our  carriage  at  the  foot  of  the  Wandersleben 
Gleichen,  we  ascended  by  a  spiral  road,  shaded  with  thickets 


TUB   CASTLES   OF   THE   GLEICIIEX. 

of  hazel  and  wild  plum.    The  top  of  i 


S11 


_  lum.      Tfte  lop  01  tne  mil  ig  encircie< 
a  moat,  beyond  which  rise  the  old  walls  of  inclosure     A 
massive  portal  on  the  northern  side  conducts  to  a  spacious 
courtyard,  now  overgrown  with  turf,  and  shaded  by  the 
ruins  of  three  different  ages.     The  silence  was  undisturbed 
save  by  the  chirping  of  a  few  autumnal  birds,  and  the  rustle 
of  a  fox,  which  darted  among  the  stones  of  a  fallen  wall  as 
^ve  appeared.     We  chose  the  grassy  foundation  of  an  old 
bastion,  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  hill,  and  inhaled  the  beauty 
of  the  landscape  while  Sebastian  tottered  up  the  winding 
path   with  our  baskets  on  his  arms.     The  dismantled  towers 
of  the  3Iahlberg  Castle  smiled  grimly  across  the  valley 
saying  to  Wandersleben :  "We  are  old,  and  ruined,  and 
neglected,   brother,   but    we  still  stand."     Wachsenbur<. 
seemed  to  float  in  the  thin  vapors  of  the  morning-the  whole 
line  of  the  Thtlringian  Mountains  filled  the  southern  horizon 
and  the  spires  of  Gotha  in  the  we.t,  and  Erfurt  in  the  east' 
marked  the  boundaries  of  the  view.    The  indolent  enjoyment 
of  an  hour's  lounge  on  such  a  spot  and  at  such  a  time 
belongs  exclusively  to  a  land  where  indolence  is  permitted. 
The  peasants,  looking  up  at  us  from  their  turnip-fields,  did 
not  say  or  think:  "What  worthless  loafers!"  as  many  an 
American  farmer  would  have  done,   but   rather:  "How 
pleasant  it  must  be  up  there,  this  morning!  How  fortunate 
they  are !" 

Full  before  us,  basking  warm  in  the  sunshine,  was  the 
estate  of  Field-Marshal  von  Muffling,  the  old  campaigner 
of  1813  and  1815.  "There,"  said  one  of  my  friends,  "I 
spent  three  years  of  my  life,  in  charge  of  the  old  c^eneral's 
H«tate;  and  many  an  hour  have  I  stolen  away  to  cUmb  this 


378 


AT   nOMB   AND   ABROAD. 


m 


hill  and  sit  where  we  sit  now.  The  western  front  of  tho 
castle  was  then  almost  in  a  habitable  condition ;  tho  roof 
was  still  standing,  and  the  floors  resting  on  heavy  beams  of 
wood,  were  entire.  But,  as  the  place  was  not  visited  for 
Aveeks  together,  so  many  beams  were  sawed  out  and  carried 
off  by  night,  that  the  roof  finally  fell  in,  and  the  general 
was  obliged  to  sell  the  remainder  of  the  timber,  in  order  to 
prevent  it  from  being  plundered.  Superb  timber  it  was, 
after  a  seasoning  of  two  hundred  years !  Yonder,  where  the 
old  chambers  were,  I  experienced,  on.;  '-'[jht,  the  greatest 
terror  I        r  felt  in  my  life." 

"Oh,  a  i^tiost  story!"  we  exclaimed,  and  our  hair  rose 
in  delightful  anticipation.  For  my  part,  knowing  my 
friend  to  be  as  courageous  as  a  grizzly  bear,  I  was  curious 
to  hear  by  what  means  he  could  have  been  made  to  feel 
fear.  "  It  was  when  I  was  living  with  the  general,"  said 
he.  "  The  jail  at  Gotha  was  broken  one  winter,  and  four 
or  five  prisoners  made  their  escape.  The  whole  country 
was  aroused,  of  course ;  they  were  sharply  followed,  and 
finally  all  were  caught  with  the  exception  of  one,  the  most 
desperate  felon  of  them  all.  For  weeks  nothing  was  heard 
of  him :  but  at  last,  through  a  Jew  in  Erfurt,  it  was  dis- 
covered that  he  was  hiding  among  these  ruins.  The  gene- 
ral was  apprised  of  the  fact  by  the  oflicers  who  came  to 
take  him,  and  who  called  to  obtain  aid.  One  of  the  shep- 
herds attached  to  the  estate,  and  myself,  were  detailed  on 
this  duty — not  a  pleasant  one,  I  confess.  The  officers, 
however,  determined  to  wait  until  latM  at  night,  when  they 
would  be  more  sure  to  find  the  fox  in  his  hole. 

"  It  was  near  mid.nght  when  we  started.    I  was  armed 


THE   CASTLES    OF   THE   GLEICIIEN. 


379 


With  a  sword-and  the  sheplierd,  who  carried  the  lantern 
with  an  old  musket.     On  reaching  the  base  of  the  hill  the 
two  officers  posted  their  men  so  as  to  form  a  cordon  around 
It,  and  we  four  then  ascended  to  the  castle:     It  was  very 
dark,  and  the  wind  howled  through  the  broken  arches  and 
wmdows.     We  first  entered  the  vaults,  groping  cautiously 
around,  and  throwing  the  light  of  the  lantern  as  far  ahead 
•us  possible.    Finding  nothing,  after  a  cautious  search,  we 
explored  the  upper  chambers,  one  after  ano.   er,  and  finally 
came  to  the  western  wing,  where  we  were  su.a  the  robber 
must  be  hidden.    The  officers  posted  themselves  at  the  two 
doors,  while  I  entered,  followed  by  the  shepherd,  whose 
terror  mcreased  with  every  minute.    After  examining  the 
first  floor,  nothing  was  left  for  us,  but  a  large  room  above. 
The  staircase  had  been  pulled  down,  but  a  rough  ladder 
supplied  its  place.    Here  the  shepherd  stopped,  overcome 
with  fear.     Taking  his  lantern  in  one  hand  and  my  sword 
ill  the  other,  I  directed  him  to  wait  at  the  foot  of  the 
ladder,  and  commenced  mounting  the  rou  ids.    I  own  I 
was  excited  and  nervous,  imagining  that  the  felon  might 
be  standing  ever  the  opening,  with  a  club  raised  to  crack 
my  skull  the  moment  it  should  be  within  his  reach. 

"Full  of  this  idea,  I  raised  my  head  to  take  a  cautious 
survey.  Suddenly  there  was  ?  quick,  ru.tling  sound-a 
loud,  shrill  cry,  and  the  lantern  was  instantly  dashed  from 
my  hand,  and  shattered  upon  the  floor  below.  I  followed 
it  at  a  single  leap,  still  holding  my  sword.  The  scream 
was  echoed  by  one  of  terror  from  the  shepherd,  who,  in 
his  excitement,  pulled  the  trigger  of  his  musket,  firing  he 
knew  not  where.    The  officers  stumbled  in  at  opposite 


I'lif 


380 


AT  HOME   AKD   ABBOAD. 


doors,  in  the  dark.  *  Where,  where  is  he?'  they  cried. 
'Light!  light!'  I  demanded,  and  'there!  there!'  yelled 
the  shepherd,  startled  hy  a  thumping  sound  at  one  of  the 
windows.  Bang  went  another  gun,  and  the  flash  showed 
us  a  large  bird  of  prey,  flapping  against  the  bars  in  his 
endeavor  to  escape.  We  v/ere  sufiiciently  vexed  and  mor- 
tified, but  our  courage  was  completely  restored.  Our 
search,  however,  was  all  in  vain,  and  we  would  willingly 
have  avoided  our  outposts,  who,  hearing  the  shots,  rushed 
up  the  hill  to  help  us  secure  the  captive." 
"  And  was  the  man  ever  caught  ?"  I  asked« 
"Yes,  two  months  afterwards.  And  what  think  you? 
The  rascal  was  ail  the  time  hidden  in  the  main  vault,  but 
so  skilfully  crammed  i'lto  a  hollow  below  two  large  stones, 
that  we  had  actually  walked  over  and  around  him  a  dozen 
times.  Of  course,  he  was  remanded  fc  several  additional 
years — but  the  fellow  had  his  reveng  j.  He  made  a  confi- 
dential declaration  to  the  court,  that  there  was  a  chest  full 
of  ancient  armor  and  other  curious  articles  in  that  very 
vault,  and  asked  to  be  paid  something  for  the  discovery. 
The  story  soon  got  abroad,  and  thereupon  arose  a  pretty 
dispute  for  the  possession  of  the  chest,  between  the  Prus- 
sian Government,  the  Duchy,  and  the  old  Field-Marshal. 
Heaven  knows  how  long  the  difficulty  would  have  con- 
tinued, had  not  the  general  taken  advantage  of  his  right  of 
possession  to  search  for  the  chest.  But  he  didn't  find  it ! 
There  never  had  been  any  chest  there;  and  the  whole 
thing  was  a  cunning  lie,  which  kept  the  scamp  supplied 
with  his  own  private  fun,  for  a  year  at  least." 

In  wandering  through  the  tumbling  halls,  that  rare  story 


TUB   CASTLES   OP   THE   GLEICHEN. 


J81 


of  love  and  liberality,  of  which  they  were  once  the  scene, 
was  constantly  before  my  mind.  Most  of  my  readers  have 
doubtless  heard  it— heard  and  disbelieved,  yet  it  is  histori- 
cally true;  and  here,  on  the  Wandersleben  Gleichen,  its 
beautiful  conclusion  occurred.  Let  me  tell  it,  i\8  it  actu- 
ally  took  place. 

Among  the  princes  who  followed  Louis  IX.  of  France  on 
his  disastrous  crusade  in  the  Orient,  was  Ludwig,  Land- 
grave  of  Thtiringia,  at  the  head  of  a  small  but  zealous  band 
of  noblemen  and  their  retainers.  Prominent  m  his  com- 
pany was  Otto,  Count  of  Gleichen,  who  left  a  young  and 
lovely  wife,  to  say  prayers  for  him  during  his  absence. 
Whether  he  locked  her  up  in  one  of  those  guarded  cham- 
bers, wherewith  the  knights  of  that  day  imprisoned  their 
"Palestine  widows,"  is  not  recorded.  Let  us  hope  not. 
Ludwig  died  somewhere  on  the  shores  of  the  Adriatic,  but 
a  few  of  his  followers,  among  whom  was  the  Count  of 
Gleichen,  pushed  on,  joined  St,  Louis,  and  in  the  course  of 
time  crossed  lances  with  the  Saracens  at  Rosetta. 

Thj  Count  was  a  passionate  hunter,  and  it  happened  one 
day  that,  as  he  was  chasing  gazelles,  attended  only  by  his 
faithful  servant,  Kurt,  he  was  suddenly  surrounded  by  a 
band  of  Saracens  and  made  prisoner.  The  two  were 
carried  off  t..  Cairo,  where  the  Count  was  thrown  into  a 
dungeon,  while  Kurt  was  employed  as  a  slave  in  the  Go- 
vernor's gardens.  The  latter,  who  seems  to  have  been  a 
keen-witted  knave,  soon  acquired  the  Arabic  language,  and 
so  ingratiated  himself  into  the  favor  of  the  head-gardener, 
that  he  persuaded  him  to  apply  for  the  services  of  the 
Count,  whose  skill  in  gardening  he  extolled  greatly.    Bein-' 


882 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


■ii ; 


15! 


11  HI 


thus  freed  from  his  dungeon,  Count  Otto  found  his  captivity 
much  more  endurable ;  and,  with  Kurt's  assistance,  man- 
aged to  keep  up  his  reputation  as  a  gardener,  though  he 
probably  knew  nothing  more  about  it  than  to  distinguish 
between  roses  and  cabbages.  Thus  yeai-s  passed  away, 
and  the  chances  of  their  release  from  this  bondage  seemed 
more  hopeless  than  ever,  when  a  wonderful  providence  at 
last  opened  a  way  for  them. 

By  this  time  the  governor's  daughter  had  reached  the 
age  of  womanhood.  Fond  of  flowers,  as  all  the  Orientals 
are,  she  was  naturally  interested  in  the  curiosities  of  gar- 
denlflg  (very  remarkable  they  were,  no  doubt !)  produced 
by  the  combined  art  of  the  count  and  Kurt.  Finally,  she 
became  interested,  also,  in  the  gardener.  To  make  a  long 
story  short,  she  pitied  first,  then  loved  him ;  while  he,  in 
return,  loved  her  for  hev  pity.  She  proposed  that  he  should 
become  a  Mussulman;  but  this  he  steadfastly  refused. 
Aft'^r  all  other  plans  seemed  vain,  she  finally  proved  the 
sincerity  of  her  love  by  professing  her  willingness  to  escape 
wit^i  him  and  become  a  Christian.  The  Count  (an  honora- 
ble man,  be  it  acknowledged)  then  explained  t^  it  he  was 
already  married.  But  this  was  no  impediment  m  the  eyes 
of  the  fair  Melek-e'-Saleh  ;  and  at  length,  overcome  by  his 
desire  for  freedom,  ho  accepted  her  proposal.  The  three 
escaped  by  night  into  the  house  of  a  Jewish  physicia;^,  in 
the  cellar  of  which  they  lay  concealed  for  two  or  three 
months.  When  the  terrible  commotion  consequent  on  their 
flight  had  subsided,  they  were  each  packed  into  the  middle 
of  a  bale  of  dried  herbs,  and  sent  as  freight  to  Alexandria. 
What  will  not  love  endure  ?     Embalmed  for  a  week  in  cat- 


THB  CASTLKS  OF  THE  GLEICHEN. 


383 


nip  and  wormwood,  it  comes  out  breathing  as  deeply  of 
roses  as  before  I 

The  Jewish  physician  and  the  Venetian  merchants  at 
Alexandria  were  rewarded  with  some  of  Melek-e'-Saleh's 
diamonds,  and  proved  faithful.    The  bales  were  immedi- 
ately  shipped  for   Venice,   and  the  odoriferous  captives 
liberated  at  sea.     Fortune  favored  them,  and  the  voyage 
to  Venice  was  accomplished  without  accident.    But  what 
of  the  Countess   Gertrudis  ?    She,  with  a  faith   and  pa- 
tience  unequalled  since,  save  by  Lady  Franklin,  waited  for 
the  return  of  her  lost  lord.    When  the  few  survivors  of 
the  Crusade  made  their  way  back,  bringing  no  tidings  of 
him,  she  nevertheless  was  not   discouraged.    When  the 
messenger  whom    she   had    sent    to    the   Mediterranean 
returned  with  a  rumor  of  the  count's  death,  she  asked, 
"Did  you  see  his  dead  body?"     "No."     "Did  you  see' 
any  one  who  had   seen  it?"     "No."     "Then  go  back 
again ! »    Finally,  the  messenger  hired  permanent  lodgings 
in  Venice,  not  daring  to  return  until  something  positive 
should  turn  up.    He  waited  several  years  in  vain.    But  one 
fine  morning  his  persistence  was  rewarded:   the   Count, 
with  Kurt  and  the  soldan's  daughter,  walked  up  the  steps 
of  the  quay. 

Goou  Catholic  as  he  was,  the  Count  proceeded  first  to 
Rome,  in  order  that  Melek-e'-Saleh  might  be  received  into 
the  Christian  Church.  The  wonderful  story  created  a 
great  sensation  in  the  holy  city,  where  the  pope  (one  of 
the  Gregories)  baptized  the  fair  Saracen  under  the  name 
of  Angelica.  The  Count  then  applied  for  a  special  dispen- 
sation to  marry  her,  on  account  of  the  sacrifices  she  had 


884 


AT  HOMS   AND   ACEOAD. 


4m 


tJi-rt 


made  for  his  sake.  The  matter  was  considered  so  import- 
ant, that  a  council  of  cardinals  was  called  together ;  but 
the  stony-hearted  celibates,  whose  ventricles  pumped  sand 
instead  of  blood,  refused  tue  prayer.  Thereupon  Ange- 
lica threw  herself  at  the  pope's  feet,  and  so  warmed  them 
with  her  tears  and  the  sunshine  of  her  beauty,  that  one 
drop  of  thawed  blood  finally  ovopt  up  to  his  heart,  and  he 
declared  that  the  Count  of  Gleicheu,  alone,  of  all  Catholic 
Christians,  then,  and  for  ever  afterwards  to  be  born,  should 
be  allowed  two  wives.  The  espousals  were  celebrated  at 
once,  and  the  happy  pair  set  out  for  the  Castle  of  Gleichen. 
But  one  chapter  of  the  story  remains.  The  Countess 
Gertrudis  had  received  regular  dispatches  from  her  agent, 
informing  her  of  all  that  had  taken  place.  What  tears  and 
struggles  the  news  cost  her,  that  noble  woman  never  told. 
She  took  counsel  of  her  heart,  and,  having  once  chosen  her 
course,  kept  it  unflinchingly.  At  last,  on  such  an  autumn 
day  as  we  enjoyed,  the  Count  approached  his  castle.  IIj 
was  full  of  doubt  and  trouble,  for  he  knew  not  that  his 
v.-ife  had  heard  from  him.  Leaving  Angelica  .:nd  all  his 
cortege  in  the  valley  beyond  the  Mtthlberg  hill,  he  rode  on 
alone  towards  Wandersleben.  What  was  his  surprise  when, 
on  turning  the  corner  of  the  Muhlberg,  and  seeing  the 
towers  of  his  home  rise  before  him,  his  banner  was  un- 
furled from  the  highest  turret,  and  joyous  peals  of  horns 
and  trumpets  rang  across  the  valley!  Down  the  h?ll  rode 
Gertrudis,  on  her  white  palfrey,  clad  in  her  bravest  appa- 
rel, and  the  glittering  ranks  of  his  retainers  followed 
behind.  Let  me  not  violate  the  sanctity  of  that  meeting 
by  attempting  to  describe  it.    An  hour  afterwards  Ger- 


TUE  CASTLES   OF  THE   GLEICIIEX.  385 

trudis  and  Angelica  met,  at  the  eastern  base  of  the  hill— 
a  spot  which  is  called  Freud^Mthcd  (the  Joy-Valley)  to  this 
day.  The  Saxon  lady's  crown  of  golden-blonde  pressed 
the  night-black  locks  of  the  Saracen  girl,  as  she  said  to  her 
(with  holy  tears,  we  are  sure),  "Welcome,  Angelica!  you 
shall  be  to  me  a  sister,  as  you  are  a  wife  to  him." 

The  chronicle  assures  us  that  the  trio  passed  their  lives 
together  in  unalloyed  peace  and  happiness.     One  account 
says  that  Angelica  was  childloss,  while  Gertrudis  bore  five 
sons  to  the  Count,  while  another-which  we  would  gladly  ' 
believe  if  it  could  be  relied  upon-declared  that  two  babes 
were  added  to  his  household  every  year.     Angelica  died 
first,  about  eight  years  after  their  marriage;  Gertrudis  in 
two  years  afterwards:  and  the  Count  Otto  outlived  them 
many  years,  to  lament  his  double  widowhood.     They  were 
buried  in  the  St.  Peter's  Church,  in  Erfurt,  where  you  may 
still  see  their  marble  effigies,  lying  side  by  side  on  the 
tomb,  and  their  mingled  skeletons  within.     The  Saracenic 
character    of  Angelica's   skull  has  been    recognised   by 
modem   craniologists.    At  Schwarzburg  on  the  Saale,  I 
am  toid,  is  yet  preserved  the  nuptial  bed,  of  remarkable 
breadth.    It  has  been  some-  hat  damaged  by  the  peasants, 
who  retain  the  belief  that  a  splinter   of  it,  kept  in  a 
house,  is  a  charm  against  all    domestic  discord,  besides 
being  a  certain  cure  for  toothache,  if  held  in  the  mouth. 

Fate,  that  seems  to  delight  in  absurd  contrasts,  reserved 
for  the  squire  a  very  different  experience  from  that  of  the 
knight.  Kurt  was  a  native  of  Ohrdruff,  a  considerable  to  wn 
at  the  foot  of  the  Thttringi.xn  mountains,  where  he  had  left 
his  wife  Gretel.    The  latter,  however,  had  neither  the  love 

17 


:( 

si 

I! 


386 


AT   UOME   AND   ABROAD. 


m 


191 


nor  the  patience  of  the  Lady  Gertrudis.  At  the  tnd  of 
three  years,  she  married  again ;  and  Ht  the  time  of  Otto's 
return  was  the  mother  of  several  bouncing  boys.  Poor 
Kurt,  however,  knew  nothing  of  this,  but  hastened  back  to 
Ohrdruff,  eager  to  embrace  his  Gretei.  Find'ng  her  place 
of  abode  vrith  some  difficulty,  he  entered  the  house,  and, 
recognising  Gretei  in  a  strong,  raw-boned  woman,  surprised 
her  by  a  vigorous  salute.  Gretei  screamed,  and  the  new 
husband  appeared.  Kurt  was  recognised;  but  that  did  not 
jnend  matters.  Both  wife  and  husband  fell  upon  him,  beat 
him  without  mercy,  and  threw  him  out  of  the  house.  Kurt 
never  returned  to  claim  Gretei. 

Of  the  ruins  of  the  castle  we  could  only  feel  certain  that 
the  vaults  and  two  upper  chambers  belonged  to  the  age  of 
Count  Otto.  There  was  one  window,  looking  eastward, 
where  I  am  sure  AngcUca  must  have  sat,  remembering  the 
palms  of  Cairo,  or  pining  over  the  reproach  of  her  sterility. 

"We  drove  past  the  Muhlberg  castle  without  climbing  the 
hill.  Only  the  outer  walls  remain,  worn  and  broken  into 
fantastic  shapes ;  and  it  has  no  history  whi^h  can  interest 
us  after  that  of  its  fellow.  Wachsenburg  is  in  better  repair. 
A  portion  of  it  is  reserved  as  a  prison  for  political  oifenders, 
and  the  remainder,  including  the  former  state  apartments, 
is  at  the  service  of  pleasure-seekers  like  ourselves.  In  the 
grand  hall  hang  some  hideous  old  portraits,  among  which  is 
one  of  Angelica  of  Gleichen,  painted  at  least  three  hundred 
years  after  her  death,  and,  of  course,  merely  imaginary. 
A  short  history  of  the  castles,  which  I  purchased  of  the 
guardian,  states  th?t  in  the  year  fourteen  hundred  and  some- 
thing,  all  three  were  struck  by  lightning  on  the  same  night. 


XXXII. 

WEEVIAR,  AND  ITS  DEAD. 


If  the  traveller,  on  his  way  from  Frankfurt  to  Berlin,  will 
look  out  of  the  right-hand  window  of  his  railway  carriage, 
about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  after  passing  Erfurt,  he  will 
eee  a  small  town,  with  three  taU  spires,  seated  in  the'bottom 
of  a  broad,  natural  basin,  or  hollow,  the  sides  of  which  are 
formed  by  gradual  sweeps  of  hill-side  finally  merged  into 
an  undulating  upland.    Around  the  edges  of  the  toT.-n  the 
houses  become  more  scattering,  diminishing  as  the  gardens 
mcrease,  so  th-t  the  place  seems  to  be  an   architectual 
deposit,  which  has  been  washed  down  from  the  circling  hills, 
and  has  settled  itself,  like  an  alluvial  layer,  deepest  where  the' 
depression  of  soil  is  greatest.    This  is  Weimar,  the  Mecca 
of  German  literature. 

I  have  seen  the  place  many  times  in  passing,  and  have 
thrice  made,  pilgrim-like,  the  round  of  its  shrines.  Though 
dull  and  quiet  now,  as  if  no  grand  creative  life  ever  fer- 


f-f 


w?' 


388 


AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 


m 


mented  within  its  limits — though  no  oracle  is  heard  within 
'ts  Dodoniau  groves — it  possesses,  nevertheless,  the  charm 
of  stately  repose,  in  addition  to  that  of  immortal  associations. 
He  who  seeks  in  '',  quaint  and  jiicturesque  effects,  as  well 
as  natural  beauties,  w  ill  not  be  disappointed ;  but  he  who 
expects  to  tind  a  single  breath  of  that  atmospl'.ore  of  Ait 
and  Taste  which  surnnindcd  it  fifty  years  ago,  will  go  home 
wiser  and  nnich  sadder  than  he  came.  It  seems  to  be  the 
rule,  hi  all  lines  of  hereditary  rulers,  that  the  son  is  the 
reverse  of  the  father.  A  despotic  king  is  sure  to  have  a 
liberal  son,  and  vice  versd.  Karl  August,  of  Weimar,  whose 
name  will  be  for  ever  luminous  in  the  reflected  lustre  of  his 
great  friends,  was  succeeded  by  a  son  who  was  little  better 
than  a  fool.  After  the  death  of  Goethe,  who  Avas  the  last 
of  the  Men  of  Weimar,  the  Muses  spread  their  wings  and 
flew.  "  Pan  is  dead !"  wp-s  the  cry,  and  the  temples  fell, 
and  no  other  gods  arose,  Weimar  is  now  the  least  literary, 
the  least  artistic,  the  most  stupidly  proud  and  aristocratic, 
the  dullest  and  most  ignorant  town  in  Gennany. 

A  single  anecdote  will  illustrate  the  charactei  of  Karl 
August's  successor,  and  explain  how  rapidly  the  tropical 
growths  of  genius,  which  shot  so  high  under  the  geninl  roign 
of  his  father,  must  have  withered  and  fallen  to  the  e:\n]\ 
under  his.  It  was  one  of  his  delusions  that  ht  ..  xj,  very 
witty  and  brilliant  in  conversation.  Two  original  ideas,  in 
particular,  delighted  him  so  much,  that  for  years  he  repeated 
them  to  every  new  acquaintance.  He  would  first  ask  his 
unlucky  guest:  "What  would  you  do  if  you  were  a  dentist  ?" 
The  latter,  being  taken  aback  by  the  question,  would  pro- 
bably answer ;  "  Pardon  me,  your  Highness,  I  have  never 


WKIMAB,   AKD   ITS   DEAD.  339 

thought  ofsnch  a  thing."    "Ha!"  was  the  duke's  triumphant 
declaration:  'Til  tell  you  nhat  /would  do-I'd  draw  out 
the  tooth  of  Time  .'•But  what  would  you  do,  if  you  were  a 
diver?"    To  this  there  would  be,  of  course,  the  same  uncer- 
tain  reply.     » If  J  were  a  diver,"  the  duke  would  then  say : 
"  I'd  sink  the  tooth  of  Time  in  the  sea  of  Eternity !»     But 
the  present  demented  King  of  Prussia,  who  at  one  time  was 
really  very  briUiant  and  witty,  quite  spoiled  the  effect  of 
those  questions.     He  had  heard  of  them  in  advance,  and 
when  he  visited  Weimar,  was  fully  prepared  to  have  them 
propounded  to  him.     When  the  duke,  therefore,  asked  as 
usual:  "What  would  you  dc  if  you  were  a  dentist?"  t>  e 
king  instantly  replied:  "I'd  draw  out  the  tooth  of  Time 
and  sink  it  in  the  sea  of  Eternity!"    The  present  duke, 
however,  though  a  man  of  ordinary  abilities,  does  not  inherit 
his  father's  stupidity,  while  he  possesses  a  little  of  his  grand- 
father's taste  for  Art.    The  only  celebrity  of  whom  Weimar 
can  now  boast  is  Franz  Liszt,  the  pianist  and  composer. 

The  central  part  of  the  town  is  old  and  quaint,  yet  clean, 
and  with  an  air  of  respectability,  if  rot  of  pretension.     The 
beautiful  river  Ilm  touches  the  eastern  side,  threading  the 
noble  park,  for  the  cliarming  arrangement  of  which  we  are 
mainly  indebted  to  Goethe.     On  this  side  are  the  palace, 
library,  ministerium,  and  the  residences  of  the  principal 
families,   -n   which  class    the    authors    may  be  included, 
^f  eimar  has  no  antiquities  of  more  than  local  interest,  no 
fine  specimens  of  architecture,  and  few  pictures  to  exhibit 
—all  the  better  for  the  reverent  visitor,  whose  mind  is  not 
disturbed  by  various  classes  of  associations,  and  who  quietly 
tracks  out  the  immortal  footsteps  of  the  poets. 


390 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


il  /' 


if 


m 


You  go  first  to  Goethe's  town-house,  which  is  a  plain, 
yellow,  two-stoiy  building,  on  a  small  triangular  square. 
(Tliis  bull  cannot  well  be  avoided  in  English.)  I  have  never 
been  able  to  visit  the  private  apartments,  which  are  only 
exhibited  on  certain  days,  but  on  one  occasion  was  admitted 
into  the  garden  in  the  rear.  The  back  wall  of  the  house 
is  overgrown  wita  ivy,  and  has  a  quaint,  home-like,  yet 
neglected  air.  The  arrangement  of  the  garden  has  evidently 
been  changed,  so  that  there  are  but  two  arbors  which  we 
could  with  certainty  ascribe  to  the  time  of  Goethe.  Still, 
it  was  a  pleasure  to  walk  in  those  alleys,  where  the  old  man 
was  wont  to  pace,  in  his  dressing-grown,  with  hands  clasped 
behind  his  back,  repeating,  perhaps,  his  own  couplet,  as  his 
thoughts  —andered  over  the  wrecks,  the  passions,  and  the 
triumphs  of  the  Past  •- 


I 


"  What  I  possess,  I  see  far  distant  lying, 
And  what  la  lost,  ia  real  and  undying  I" 

There  has  been  a  great  deal  of  absurd  talk  about  Goethe, 
as  there  has  been  about  Byron,  Shelley,  Tegner,  and  every 
other  author,  who  happens  to  violate,  now  and  then,  the 
eaored  decencies  of  Society.  The  offence  consists,  not  so 
much  in  what  they  may  do,  as  in  the  contemptuous  candor 
with  which  they  avow  it.  A  little  dissimulation  would  have 
made  them  very  proper  men.  They  would  have  received 
a  sort  of  canonization  from  public  opinion,  and  the  world 
■would  have  been  none  the  wiser.  Schiller,  with  a  narrower 
grasp  of  intellect,  a  more  undemonstrative,  if  not  a  colder 
nature,  is  mounted  on  an  immaculate  moral  pedestal,  while 
Goethe  (to  those  who  are  incapable  of  appreciating  him)  is 


WKIMAR,   AND   ITS   DEAD.  391 

smutched  vith  the  rankest  faults  and  heresies,  ^et  on  the 
monument  just  erected  in  their  honor,  they  stand  side  by 
side,  and  the  hand  of  each  rests  on  the  same  crown  of  laurel. 
Who  shall  say  which  was  best,  purest,  and  most  consistent  ? 
Not  the  generation,  nor  even  the  century,  in  whidh  a  man 
lives,  can  judge  him  impartially. 

Schiller's  house  is  an  old,  quaint,  yet  comfortable  building, 
on  one  of  the  broadest  streets.     It  has  been  purchased  by 
a  general  subscription,  for  the  purpose  of  being  preserved, 
and  now  contains  a  collection  of  relics  associated  with  the 
poet's  residence  there.     The  halls  and  staircases  are  dark 
and  narrow,  the  rooms  cramped  and  low,  and  the  furniture  > 
—judging  from  the  specimens  remaining— was  of  the  plainest 
kind;   yet   everything  suggests   quiet,   contentment,   and 
unpretending  simplicity.     The  upper  (third)  story  belonged 
especially  to  Schiller.     From  the  top  of  the  staircase  you 
step  into  a  plain  drawing-room,  beyond  which  is  his  study, 
with  the  pictures,  writing-desk,  and  piano,  just  as  he  left 
them.    The  writing-desk  is  of  plain,  mipainted  wood,  with 
drawers  for  MSS.  on  each  side,  and  a  recess  for  the  feet  in 
the  centre.     Here  the  poet  was  accustomed  to  sit  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  night,  with  a  bottle  of  champagne  or 
Rhenish  wine  before  him,  and  his  feet  in  a  tub  of  cold  water. 
With  such  a  double  stimulus  acting  on  the  brain,  it  is  not 
so  surprising  that  he  should  have  written  »  Wallenstein" 
or  «  Wilhelm  Tell,"  as  that  he  should  have  lived  to  the  age 
of  forty -five. 

The  personal  impression  made  by  Schiller  was  that  of  a 
colder  and  more  taciturn  man  than  his  poems  would  lead 
us  to  imagine.    Except  in  the  company  of  his  few  intimate 


:  15 


I  i 


302 


AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 


friends,  he  was  reserved  and  melancholy.  Tliis,  no  doult, 
was  the  result  of  ill-health,  and  the  cares  which  oppressed 
him  during  the  best  years  of  his  life.  The  overplus  of  en- 
thusiasm which  inspired  his  "  Hymn  to  Joy,"  in  youth,  was 
speedily*chilled,  and  the  sweetest,  tenderest  tone  of  sadness 
pervades  his  later  poems.  In  his  address  "  To  the  Ideal," 
he  relinquishes  every  golden  dream,  and  finds  but  two 
sourcfes  of  strength  and  consolation — Friendship  and  Occu- 
pation— amid  the  trials  of  the  actual  life  wnich  surrounds 
him.  He  does  not  accept  Life  as  it  is,  with  its  stern  truths 
and  relentless  disenchantments ;  but  pines  for  that  impossi- 
ble existence  which  once  seemed  so  near.  Yet  this  sadness, 
which  would  otherwise  be  a  weakness,  is  redeemed  by  his 
unshaken  faith  in  the  good — his  incessant  aspirations  for 
the  elevation,  the  happiness,  and  the  freedom  of  his  fellow- 
men.  Thus,  with  less  knowledge  of  human  nature  than 
Goethe,  he  had  a  profoundar  sympathy  with  the  race,  and 
will  for  ever  retain  a  warmer  place  in  the  German  heart. 

The  pictures  in  Schiller's  study  are  rude,  colored  prints 
of  Italian  scenery,  whose  only  attraction  for  him  could 
have  been  the  subjects.  The  piano  is  a  queer  little  cracked 
affair,  and  the  chairs  are  of  the  plainest  and  stiffest  pattern. 
The  original  cast  of  characters  for  the  first  performance  of 
"  Wilhelm  Tell,"  in  bis  own  hand,  hangs  near  the  desk. 
His  coffee-cup  and  saucer,  penknife,  pencil,  and  various 
other  small  articles,  lie  upon  a  table.  A  portrait  of  his 
•>vif<=(,  Charlotte  von  Lengefeld,  in  pencil,  represeats  her  as 
a  large,  aquiline,  determined  woman — the  proper  stamp  to 
advise  and  assist,  as  well  as  passively  appreciate.  On  a 
table  in  the  drawing-room  lies  the  Schiller  Album,  consist- 


^ii 


WEIMAR,    AND   ITS   DEAD. 


393 


5ig  of  autographic  contributions  from  nearly  all  the  a.  \ors 
and  artists  of  Germany.  Behind  the  house  is  a  little,  luir- 
row  garden-plot,  with  an  arbor  of  American  ivy  {ampelop- 
5/s)— called  "Avild  wine"  by  the  Germans— which  was  the 
poet's  favorite  resort  on  summer  evenings. 

One  interesting  relic  of  Schiller— his  court  sword— is 
now  in  my  possession.  It  fell  into  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Thackeray,  during  his  residence  at  Weimar,  in  1830,  at 
which  time  there  was  no  difficulty  in  establishing  its  au- 
thenticity. After  having  had  it  in  his  possession  twenty- 
eight  years,  Mr.  Thackeray  presented  it  to  me,  enriched  by 
the  double  association,  as  he  had  himself  frequently  worn 
it  at  the  court  of  Weimar. 

The  houses  of  Herder  and  Wieland  are  not,  I  beUeve, 
open  to  public  inspection,  and  I  was  obliged  to  be  content 
with  an  outside  view  of  them.    Both  these  authors  have 
also  been  honored  with  bronze  statues.    The  park,  how- 
ever, which  has,  ordinarily,  all  the  seclusion  of  a  private 
pleasure-ground,  interested  me  more  than  the  '-cant  tene- 
ments  of  the  dead  poets.  •  It  takes  in  the  deep,  winding 
valley  of  the  Ilm,  and  its  undulating  southern  bank,  for  a 
distance  of  nearly  two  miles,  the  trees  being  left,  as  much 
as  possible,  in  their  natural  disposition.     Two  or  three 
artificial  lancies  only,  deform  the  else  unstudied  scenery— 
the  ars  celare  artem  of  landscape  gardening.    There  is  an 
ivied  ruin,  on  the  summit  of  a  knoll— very  well  done,  in- 
deed,  but  it  can  deceive  no  one  for  a  hundred  years  to 
come.     A  rocky  grotto  near  the  river  bank  is  better,  for 
Kature  has  lent  it  one  of  her  clearest  and  coldest  fountains. 
The  bed  of  the  valley  id  level,  with  a  scattering  growth  of 

1.7* 


,f- 


lil 


394 


AT  HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


majestic  elms  and  lindens,  dappling  the  flowery  turf  with 
cold,  blue  shadows.  There  are  no  extensive  views,  nothing 
grand  and  imposing ;  but  all  is  peaceful,  idyllic.  Arcadian. 

This  park  is  full  of  memories  of  the  clascic  age.  In  ono 
of  the  walks.  Herder  and  Jean  Paul  met  for  the  first  time, 
embracing  each  other  at  sight,  with  unhesitating  love  and 
confidence.  In  a  secluded  nook  there  is  a  sunmier-house 
of  rough  wood  and  bark,  which,  it  is  whispered,  witnessed 
many  a  secret  midnight  revel  of  the  duke  and  the  poets ; 
and  where  the  lim  rests  his  waters  in  a  deep,  quif '  dam, 
the  young  Goethe  delighted,  on  moonlight  nights,  to  dive 
from,  the  shaded  bank  and  reappear  suddenly,  with  wUd 
shrieks,  in  the  centre  of  the  pool,  to  the  awful  terror  of 
peasants  passing  over  the  bridge  above.  Here  walked 
Schiller,  tall,  stoop-shouldered,  and  grave ;  here  the  short, 
slender,  compact  brothers  Von  Humboldt,  overflowing  with 
boundless  energy  and  ambition ;  Madame  de  Stael,  stout, 
brilliant,  and  belligerent ;  Wieland,  with  his  puckered  face, 
and  Herder,  portly  and  prosperous ;  Bettine,  the  smart, 
sentimental,  and  affected  little  imp,  performing  her  monkey- 
like antics  around  the  knees  of  Goethe ;  the  Schlegels, 
whose  genius  only  saved  them  from  being  snobs ;  Xovalis, 
the  pure  and  beautiful  soul,  and  Theodor  Komer,  who 
struck  a  more  heroic  harp  than  Tyrtaeus — all  of  these,  and 
scores  of  others,  whose  places  h  he  German  Pantheon  are 
a  little  lower,  kne\^  these  co  ,  embowered  walks  and 
grassy  glades. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  Bm,  facing  the  meadow,  is  the 
"  Garden  House "  of  Goethe,  where  his  summers  were 
spent,  and  many  of  his  finest  works  »vritten.    It  is  a  plain, 


WEIMAE,   AND   ITS   DEAD.  395 

old-fashioned  residence,  hardly  better  than  the  amtmann 
of  any  country  village  inhab-^«— shaded  by  a  steep,  wooded 
hill  from  the  mornijg  sun.  open  to  tho  soft  afternoon 

%ht  and  the  flush  of  sunset.     A  friend  of  mine,  a  distin- 
guished German  gentleman,  described  to  me  his  interview 
with  Goethe  in  this  house,  in  the  year  1819.    My  friend  is 
an  enthusiastic  geologist,  and  in  the  autumn  of  that  year 
was  fortunate  enough  to  procure  a  portion  of  an  aerolite, 
which  feU  in  the  vaUey  of  the  Saale.     On  his  return  home,' 
he  determined  to  profit  by  the  opportunity,  and  exhibit 
Ills  treasure  to  Goethe,  who  was  then  prosecuting  his 
geological  studies.    "  It  was  just  after  the  assassination  of 
Kotzebue  by  Sand,"  said  he,  "and  the  excitement  through- 
out Germany  was  very  great.    There  were  rumors  that 
Goethe,  also,  who  was  obnoxious  to  the  patriotic  party, 
feared  a  similar  fate.    On  my  way  to  his  residence,  I 
reflected  that  the  aerolite  was  in  my  breast-pocket,  and  the 
inserting  o'  my  hand  in  order  to  present  it,  would  have 
just  the  appearance  of  drawing  a  concealed  dagger.    In 
order,  therefore,  to  avoid  a  possible  embarrassment,  I  put 
che  stone  into  my  hat. 

"After  waitmg  in  the  ante-room  a  few  minutes,  the  door 
opened,  and  Goethe  appeared  in  his  dressing-gown,  tall, 
massive,  and  majestic.  My  first  thought  was  the  exclama- 
tion of  Lear:  «Ay,  every  inch  a  king!»  He  had  the 
grandest  presence  of  any  man  I  had  ever  seen.  I  advanced, 
hat  in  hand,  and  taking  out  the  aerolite,  made  it  at  once  an 
apology  and  an  introduction.  He  was  both  pleased  and 
interested,  and  after  a  long  interview,  durbg  which  he 
exhibited  to  me  his  entire  mlneralogical  cabinet,  we  parted. 


396 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


I 


with  a  coraial  invitation  on  his  part  to  visit  hiro  again.  I 
tried  in  vain  to  get  his  opinion  with  regard  to  the  forma- 
lion  of  aerolites,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  knew 
no  naore  about  it  than  I  did  myself.  IDs  manner  was 
stately,  yet  not  cold ;  and  his  voice,  though  not  entirely 
reminding  you  of  '  deep-toned  thunder  mixed  with  whis- 
pering rain-drops,'  as  Jean  Paul  said,  was  certainly  a  cry 
rich,  full,  and  in  unison  with  his  whole  appearance." 

Yet  this  philosopher-poet,  who  wrote  not  only  "  Faust," 
but  the  "  Theory  of  Colors,"  and  the  "  Metamorphoses  of 
Plants,"  could  touch  a  string  as  f'elicate  and  tender  as  that 
of  Ariel — could  sing  the  songs  of  the  zephyr  and  the  brook, 
as  well  as  the  chorus  of  the  archangels. 


"  Under  the  treo-lops  is  silent  now  I 
In  all  the  woodlands  hearest  thou 

Not  a  noand : 
The  little  birds  are  asleep  in  the  trees ; 
"Wait,  beloved !  and  soon  like  these 

Sleepest  thou  1" 


— is  the  serenade  which  he  whispers  at  dusk.  And  this 
song — which,  dissatisfied  with  the  way  in  which  Aytoun 
and  others  have  turned  it  into  English — I  have  translated 
for  myself:  is  it  not  the  voice  of  a  summer  afternoon? 


'^ 


Up  yonder  on  the  mountain 
A  thousand  times  I  stand, 

Leant  on  my  crook,  and  gazinj; 
Down  on  the  valley  land. 


WEIMAR,    AND   ITS    DEAD. 

I  follow  the  flock  to  the  pasture; 

The  little  dog  follows  them  still: 
I  have  come  below,  but  I  „now  cot 

How  I  descended  tlie  liill. 

The  beautiful  meadow  is  covered 
With  blossoms  of  every  hue ; 

I  pluck  them,  alas !  without  knowing 
"Whom  I  shall  give  them  to. 

I  find,  in  the  rain  and  the  tempest, 
A  refuge  under  the  tree — 

But  yonder  the  doors  are  fastened, 
And  all  is  a  dream  to  me. 

Riglit  over  the  roof  of  the  dwelling 

I  see  a  rainbow  stand  ; 
But  she  has  departed  for  ever, 

And  gone  far  out  in  the  land  I 


391 


Far  out  in  the  land,  and  farther- 
Perhaps  to  an  alien  shore  : 

Go  forward,  ye  sheep,  go  forward  I 
Tlis  heart  of  the  shepherd  is  sore. 

Leave  the  park  on  your  left,  and  follow  its  western 
boundary  until  you  pass  the  suburbs  of  Weimar.  Here, 
on  a  gentle  slope,  is  the  City  of  the  Dead,  in  the  midst 
whereof  rises  the  mausoleum  of  the  reigning  family.  The 
lodge-keeper  will  unlock  the  ponderous  doors  for  you,  and 
permit  you  to  descend  to  a  grating,  through  which  you 
look  into  the  dim  vault.  There,  side  by  side,  are  the  sar- 
cophagi which  contain  the  ashes  of  Goethe  and  Schiller. 


398 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


Karl  August,  their  princely  friend,  lies  near-  -not  between 
them  J  as  he  desired — for  Weimar  is  intensely  aristocratic 
and  proper.  But  it  is  better  so.  The  true  noblemen  sleep 
together,  separated  from  the  crowd  of  nominal  and  acci- 
dental ones. 


XXXIII. 


A  GERMAN  IDYL. 


[8BPTEMBEB,  1858.] 


A  3H0RT  time  before  leaving  my  G.haic  or  Gothic  home 
(the  tradition  is,  that  Gotha  was  founded  by  the  Goths, 
whence  its  name),   a  marriage  took  place.    My  friend, 
Eckart,  the  announcement  of  whose  betrothal  with  Emilie 
was  proclaimed  on  the  very  day  of  another  bridal,  some  ten 
months  previous,  finished  the  momentous  business  in  the 
church  of  St.  Margaret,  with  the  assistance  of  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Beercup.    But  a  wedding  in  the  old  central,  Saxon  portion 
of  Germany,  is  by  no  means  the  stiff  and  stately  affair  that 
it  is  in  Anglo-Saxon  countries.    As  all  possible  publicity  is 
given  to  a  betrothal— which  with  us  is  often  kept  a  profound 
secret— so  marriages  are  always  solemnized  in  the  church, 
and  give  occasion  to  open  and  unrestrained  expressions  of 
joy  and  good-will  on  the  part  of  the  relatives  and  friends. 


400 


AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


In  England  and  tlie  United  States,  a  man  shrinks  from  any 
observid  demonstration  of  love,  as  if  it  were  a  weakness  to 
be  concealet  :  in  Germany,  the  bridegroom  desires  that  all 
vhe  world  should  witness  his  bride  and  happiness.  To  be 
sure,  tears  are  always  shed  (no  wedding  seems  to  be  com- 
plete without  them),  but  the  newly-married  are  always  sure 
of  tho  heartiest  sympathy  and  respect.  The  Court  Chapel 
in  Gotha  has  a  weeping  sexton,  whose  tears  fall  heavy  or 
light,  in  pi-oportion  to  the  amount  of  his  fee. 

The  evening  before  the  happy  day  has  a  peculiar  celebra- 
tion of  its  own.  It  is  called  the  Folter-Abend,  or  "  Crock 
Eyening,"  from  an  ancient  custom,  which  still  prevails  to 
some  extent,  of  smashing  an  cH  crock  on  the  door-sill  of  tbo 
bride's  residence  for  good  luck.  This  performance,  however, 
is  only  part  of  a  very  extensive  scheme  of  merry-making,  in 
which  all  the  friends  of  the  parties  are  free  to  indulge,  no 
invitation  being  necessary.  The  bride  and  the  bridegroom, 
enthroned  upon  a  dais,  rftceive  the  visits  of  all  who  choose 
to  come  in  fancy  costume,  assuming  some  appropriate 
character.  Of  course,  there  is  great  room  for  the  display 
of  fun  as  well  as  good-will,  and  the  parties  are  very  often 
good-humoredly  teased  for  their  real  or  supposed  short- 
comings. Formerly,  the  polter,  or  crock,  was  smashed  at 
the  feet  of  the  couple,  previous  to  the  masquerade  of 
characters.  Now,  it  is  broken  at  the  door  during  the 
evening,  and  sometimes  omitted  altogether.  The  pro- 
gramme is  always  kept  a  secret  from  the  betrothed,  and,  as 
far  as  possible,  from  the  rest  of  the  company,  so  that  the 
performance  is  all  the  more  entertaining  from  its  unexpected 
features. 


/  «- 


A   GERMAN   IDYL. 


401 


Eckart'8  polter-evening  was  very  diverting.    After  he 
and  Emilie  had  been  seated  in  their  places  of  honor  on  one 
side  of  the  frescoed  saloon,  and  ail  the  friends  who  came 
«mply  as  mere  spectators  were  iu  attendance,  a  darkhaired 
gip^y,  picturesque  in  crimson  and  black,  made  her  appear- 
ance, and  in  some  neat  rhymes  pronounced  her  prognostica- 
tions of  the  future  happiness  of  the  pair.     Then  came  the 
two  bridesmaids,  in  white,  carrying  the  bridal  wreath  of 
myrtle,  which  it  is  their  special  duty  to  furnish.    As  it  is 
woven  by  virgin  hands,  it  can  only  be  worn  by  a  virgin 
bnde.    A  widow  who  marries  again  has  no  righc  to  the 
myrtle,  but  may  wear  a  wreath  of  other  flower.     The 
wreath  is  always  p.esented  wit     m  appropriate  poem,  and 
thir  ,s  one  of  the  pleasantest  features  of  the  evening. 

1  he  Master  of  Ceremonies  now  announced  an  arrival  from 
Chma.    A  Celestial  lady  .^ith  oblique  eyebrows  (painted 
for  the  occasion),  hair  of  the  latest  Pokin  frisure,  and  wide 
gown  of  rich  figured  silk,  rushed  into  the  saloon,  and  fiercely 
upbraided  Eckart  for  his  infidelity  to  her.     She  was,  how- 
ever,  consoled  by  a  little  mandarm,  in  a  poetical  dialogue, 
and  the  twain  finally  presented  the  bride  with  a  bird's  nest 
for  her  wedding-soup,  and  dauoed  a  funny  Confucian  jicr 
Next  appeared  a  Patagonian  giantess,  over  six  feet  h,..h 
and  attired  in  skins.     She  created  much  amusement  by  her 
assumed  maiden  modesty,  and  her  languishing  appeals  to 
the  single  gentlemen  present.     There  was  also  an  Ethiopian, 
with  an  attempt  at  a  break-down^a  thing  in  which  no 
German  could  possibly  succeed;  a  handsome  Greek  boy, 
bearing  a  mystic  communication  from  the  oracle  of  Delphi; 
and  anally,  a  whale,  extended  on  a  bench,  brandishing  a 


Iliu 


.02 


▲T  HO&IK  XSr*  ABSOAO. 


forked  tail  of  black  chintz,  and  spouting  water  through  his 
nostrils  upon  the  company,  with  a  garden  syringe  I 

The  prettiest  apparition,  howev,<r,  was  the  Fairy  of  the 
TliQringian  Forest,  whose  goldev.  hair  and  floating  white 
dress  were  decorated  with  sprays  of  fir,  beer}\  and  oak. 
In  a  charming  poetical  address,  she  presented  the  bridal 
pair  with  branches  of  the  same  trees,  typical  of  beauty, 
Strength,  and  fidelity.  O  blue-eyed  maid  of  Holstein  I  may 
thy  beech  find  an  oak  to  shelter  it,  and  the  steadfast  fir 
never  be  absent  from  the  garden  of  thy  life  1  When  the 
procession  of  characters  was  completed,  we  had  liberal 
refreshments,  consisting  of  varieties  of  sandwiches,  bratwurst 
(another  feature  of  the  polter-evening),  and  cups  of  punch, 
A  good  performer  took  his  place  at  the  piano,  and  the  saloon 
was  cleared  for  dancing.  The  company  dispersed  before 
midnight,  in  order  that  the  family  might  rest  themselves 
for  the  morrow. 

I  pass  ov  .ir  the  wedding,  which  was  like  all  other  weddings 
in  church,  except  that  the  Lutheran  marriage  service  is 
simpler,  and,  to  my  thinking,  more  appropriate  and  agree- 
able than  that  of  the  English  Church.  Half  an  hour  sufficed 
to  give  lovo  the  supreniest  sanction,  and  to  impose  upon 
the  parties  the  solemn  duties  and  obligations  of  the  marriage 
state.  Then  we  sat  down  to  a  sumptuous  dinner,  which 
was  prolonged  by  a  multitude  of  courses  t'irnugh  the  whole 
afternoon.  There  was  carp  from  the  ponds  of  OhrdrufT; 
reindeer  steaks  fi'om  Norway ;  capercailzie  and  venison  from 
the  forests ;  wine  from  Rhenish,  Franconian,  and  Burgun- 
dian  hills,  and  a  bewildering  variety  of  those  artistic  salad- 
mosaics,   in   which  the  German   culinary  mind  delights. 


A  OKSMAN  lUTL. 


403 


The  foresters  in  their  ^/een  uniforms,  the  rotund  editor, 
the  country  pastor,  and  the  benign  grandmother,  seated 
together,  blended  into  a  social  sala<l  of  equally  heterogeneons 
elements ;  and  I  was  not  surprised  when  the  evening  music 
struck  up,  thai  their  individualities  should  have  become 
slightly  confounded-that  the  pastor  waltzed  merrily  with 
the  bridesmaid,  the  editor  gossiped  quietly  with  the  grand- 
mother,  and  the  foresters  talked  politics. 

You  are  shocke  1  at  this,  O  my  evangelical  reader  I     But 
do  not  be  too  hasty.    Remember  that  in  the  German 
theology  asceticism  has  no  place-that  the  clergymen,  even 
those  of  the  most  orthodox  stamp,  are  faithful  disciples  of 
Luther,   tvhose  great  warm,  mellow,  merry  heart  it  was, 
rather  than  his  inkstand,  which  put  the  Devil  to  fiignt. 
•rheir  position  does  not  debar  them  from  the  enjoyment  of 
any  innocent  and  cheering  J'musemenl.    If  my  friend,  the 
pastor,  had  danced  in  the  sight  of  all  his  congregation,  they 
would  have  listened  to  him  on  the  next  Sabbath  with  no 
less  dutiful  reve-ence.    The  milestones  along  a  Gen  lan's 
life  are  his  domestic  and  social  festivals.     On  this  track  his 
religion  walks  hand-in-hand  with  him,  not  frowning,  with 
averted  hea^,  on  a  distant  path,  where  no  roses  spring  from 
the  flinty  soil. 

But  the  short  September  dusk  deepened  into  night,  and 
the  grandmother's  cart  was  at  the  door;  so  the  new  hus- 
band  and  wife  took  their  seats  with  her,  and  the  three  set 
out  for  the  castle  of  Friedrichswerth,  of  which  the  old  ladv 
was  sole  castellan.  It  is  seven  or  eight  miles  distant  from 
Gotha,  in  a  secluded  valley,  behind  the  barren  HSrselbcrg- 
I  had  often  intended  tc  visit  the  old  ducal  cartle,  but  pro- 


1^.^ 


404 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


bably  should  never  have  earned  out  my  design,  had  not 
Eekart  and  his  wife  gone  to  spend  the  first  week  of  their 
honeymoon  there.  Two  days  afterwards,  on  one  of  the 
loveliest  and  sunniest  days  that  ever  blessed  the  world,  I 
sei  V  w  ,,ii,; ';,  in  a  light  open  carriage. 

V  • ,  is  -sweeter  than  a  golden  autumnal  day  in  Mid- 
Germany?    The  first  yellow  leaves   are  falling  from  the 
linden  colonnades  on  either  side  of  the  road ;  the  fields, 
uninterrupted  by  hedge  or  fence,  spread  their  mosaic  of 
green,  brown,  and  tawny  squares  over  the  wide,  undulating 
hills,  until,  in  bluer  waves,  they  meet  the  indistinct  horizon ; 
nestled  in  every  hollow,  the  red  roofs  of  the  villages  are 
softened  to  pink  or  purple  by  the  gauzy  air;  and  beyond 
all,  the  mountain-ranges,  dark  with  firs,  are  basking  softly 
in  a  noonday  dream.    The  knobs  of  scarlet  berries  gleam 
on  the  wild-boar  ash ;  the  meadows  are  .Mn-inkled  with  the 
lilac  blossoms  of  the  coichicum,  and  the  winding  belts  of 
tall  alders  which  mark  the  course  of  the  streams  will  defy 
the  frosts  for  a  month  to  come.    There  is  no  jubilant  vin- 
tage, with  its  bonfires  and  rockets,  as  on  the  Rhine,  but 
the  villages  are  jolly  with  the  Kirmse,  and   the  blonde 
youths  you  meet  have  gay  rosettes  on  their  «aps.    From 
the  beer-gardens  you  hear  the  clink  of  the  heavy  glasses, 
or  a  genial  chorus,  or  that  sweet  song  which  everybody 
knows : 


"  Down  in  a  cool,  green  valley 
There  goes  a  mill-wheel  round ; 
But  my  sweetheart  she  has  vanished— 
The  swcctiioart,  there  I  found." 


A   GERMAN   inTL. 


405 


In  the  placid  enjoyment  of  such  sights  and  sounds,  I  was 
carried  on  towards  Friedrichswerth,  and  the  blue,  ringleted 
breath  of  my  contentment  floated  behind  me  on  the  autumn 
air.     Gotha,  despite  its  lofty  perch,  disappeared  behind  the 
wooded  ridge  of  the  Krahnberg,  and  a  new  valley  opened 
before  rae-a  broad  basin,  sweeping  away  to  the  northern 
base  of  the  Horselberg,  and  bounded  on  the  west  by  gently- 
rounded  hills,  to  the  green   declivities  of  which  villages 
were  clinging.      In  the  centre  of  the  landscape  was  Fried- 
richswerth,  the  square  gray  front  of  its  castle  rising  above 
the  rounded,  billowy  green  of  the  pleasure-garden  "belong- 
ing to  it.    The  naked  heights  of  the  Horsel,  usually  so 
brown  and  forbidding,  were  now  muffled  in  a  violet  film, 
as  fair  as  the  veil  of  the  enchantress,  Frau  HoUe,  who  still 
sits  within  their  caverns,  to  lure  a  new  Tannhauser  to  her 
fatal  arms.     It  must  have  been  on  such  a  day  that  the  dry 
staff  of  the  despairing  pilgrim  burst  into  miraculous  bloom, 
the  sign  of  pardon  and  of  rest.     Gazing  on  the  haunted 
hills,  I  found  my  mind  involuntarily  following  the  thread 
of  that  legend,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  nine  men  out  of 
every  ten  would  have  done  just  as  Tannhauser  did. 

Leaving  my  carriage  at  the  village  inn,  I  crossed  the 
bridge  over  the  empty  moat,  and  entered  the  castle.  It  is 
a  plain,  massive  building,  occupying  three  sides  of  a  paral- 
lelogram, and  built  in  the  style  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
Entering  a  door  at  a  venture,  I  found  myself  in  a  spacious, 
arched  kitchen,  large  enough  to  furnish  a  meal  for  five 
hundred  men.  At  the  sound  of  my  footsteps,  the  door 
opened,  and  the  grandmother  appeared.  She  at  once  con- 
ducted  me  to  an  inner  chamber,  likewise  vaulted,  where  I 


406 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


V- 


:i 


I 


found  Eckart  and  his  wife.  I  had  not  taken  my  seat  before 
I  was  presented  with  a  large  mug  of  foaming  beer — the 
beginning  of  a  series  of  hospitalities  from  which  there  was 
no  escape,  save  in  flight. 

The  whole  castle — which  is  uninhabited,  except  by  the 
good  old  commandress — was  put  at  our  disposal.  A  hun- 
dred years  ago  it  was  the  favorite  summer  residence  of  the 
Dukes  of  Saxe-Gotha-Altenburg ;  but  since  the  extinction 
of  the  old  house,  and  the  union  with  Coburg,  it  has  been 
emptied  of  everything  but  a  few  bad  pictures,  and  entirely 
neglected.  It  was  built,  I  believe,  about  1670,  by  Duke 
Frederick  11.,  and  farther  adorned  and  beautified  by  his 
successors.  The  princely  builder  seems  to  have  been  an- 
noyed by  strictures  upon  his  architectural  taste,  for  he 
placed  at  the  bottom  of  the  staircase,  in  the  main  hall,  a 
large  carved  figure  of  a  fool,  grinning  maliciously,  and 
pointing  with  his  right  hand  to  an  unfolded  scroll  in  his 
left,  on  which  was  written — as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect  the 
words — "  Ha !  ha !  here  is  the  Fool,  you  say.  The  castle 
has  been  built  solidly  and  in  good  style,  by  the  Prince 
Friederich  II.  for  his  pleasure  and  satisfaction.  Now  it  is 
finished,  and  if  you  don't  like  it,  take  care;  for  perhaps  the 
style  of  it  may  be  better  than  your  own,  and  then  j/ou  are 
the  Fool,  after  all !'» 

The  state  chambers  were  in  a  ruinous  condition,  from 
sheer  neglect.  The  heavy  gilded  cornices  were  tarnished, 
the  frescoes  faded  and  chipped  off  in  spots,  the  plaster 
reliefe  broken,  and  the  carved  wainscots  riddled  with  rat- 
holes.  Only  the  chapel,  with  its  silent  organ,  and  its  altar, 
piously  kept  clear  of  dust,  retains  a  little  of  the  olden  state. 


A   GERMAN   IDYL. 


407 


Around  the  choir  is  an  elaborate  frieze  of  wood-carving, 
representing  a  multitude  of  cherub  choristers  and  musicians, 
of  the  size  of  life.  Many  of  the  baby  figures  are  charming 
— iightsome  and  graceful,  in  spite  of  the  giant  mushrooms 
(meant  for  clouds)  in  the  midst  of  which  they  are  singing. 
A  te\,  paintings  of  court  beauties,  of  a  century  ago,  have 
been  left;  but  the  most  of  them  are  damaged  and  faded. 

Another  bridge  crosses  the  moat  to  the  garden,  which  is 
a  specimen  of  horticultural  pomp  relapsing  into  barbarism, 
and  more  beautiful,  perhaps,  in  its  unpruned  and  neglected 
state,  than  it  ever  was  when  its  rectangular  walks  and 
pyramidal  trees  mimicked  Versailles.    In  a  dark,  circular 
grove  of  lindens  are  the  old  grottoes  and  fount  -ns;  but 
the  grotesque  rock-work  has  tumbled  down,  the  fountains 
are  dry,  and  the  marble  nymphs  have  veiled  their  nudity 
in  a  thick  garb  of  yellow  mould.     Only  a  little  dark  water 
at  the  bottom  of  this  basin  glimmers  through  the  funereal 
shade.     On  either  hand,  hedges  of  yew  and  holly,  which 
once  presented  smooth-clipped  walls  to  the  walk,  have  shot 
out  lawless  boughs  in  all  directions— taking  forms  all  the 
wilder  for  their  previous  restraint.     A  few  statues  are  still 
standing  at  the  turns  of  the  walks;  and  there  are  some 
tables  and  benches  under  the  lindens,  where  you  can  drink 
your  tea — oi  beer. 

At  the  northern  end  of  the  garden,  a  broad  flight  of 
steps  leads  to  a  large  artificial  terrace,  surrounded  by  a 
massive  stone  balustraa.,  now  falling  to  pieces,  and  half 
concealed  in  the  wildest  tangle  of  vines— ivy,  roses,  night- 
shade, grapes,  honcyauckles,  and  blackberries,  matted 
together  in  a  WTestle  for  the  lordship  of  the  place.    In  the 


408 


AT   iiOMK   AND   ABROAD. 


centre  of  the  terrace  is  another  cirque  of  Druid  lindens, 
protpr  ting  a  mutilated  statue  of  Diana.  The  high  garden- 
walls  are  hit'  Ten  on  the  north  side  with  close  hedges  of 
yew,  and  on  the  south  are  covered  with  bounteous  grape- 
vines. Around  the  wliolc  .ract,  which  comprises  from 
fiftep-..  to  t'-enty  acres,  runs  a  broad,  deep  moat,  outside 
of  which  stood,  prior  to  1848,  a  noble  avenue  of  lindens, 
inclosing  the  whole.  During  the  revolutionary  excitemciit, 
however,  the  people  cut  them  down. 

As  we  sat  on  the  terrace,  under  the  lindens,  while  the 
blue  summit  of  the  Horsel  darkened  against  the  sinking 
sun,  the  old  grandmother  told  us  of  the  traditionary  splen- 
dors of  the  court ;  how  the  dukes  came  hither  for  summer 
gaiety,  and  were  visited  here  by  all  the  neighboring 
princes,  and  by  noblemen  from  Paris  and  Berlin  ;  how 
they  hunted  over  the  northern  hills,  and  danced  at  evening 
in  the  great  hull ;  how  the  moat  was  then  full  of  water, 
and  splendid  barges  rowed  around  castle  and  garden  by 
torchlight,  to  the  sound  of  music ;  what  glittering  coats 
the  gentlemen  wore,  what  diamonds  the  ladies;  how  rich 
and  grand  they  were — yet,  for  all  that,  no  belter  than  they 
should  be ;  in  short  ( although  she  did  not  say  that), 
what  a  selfish,  affected,  vain,  licentious,  stupid  crew  once 
housed  in  this  paradise.  How  sweet  the  present  seclusion 
and  neglect,  contrasted  with  those  glittering  orgies ! 

I  have  rarely  seen  a  place  whicli  fascinated  me  so  en- 
tirely. Its  aspect  was  not  sad,  but  soothing  and  happy,  as 
if  every  tree  said  to  itself:  "Now they  have  let  me  alcae, 
I  can  grow  as  I  please,  and  take  some  comfort  in  living." 
The  silent  garden,  clasped  in  the  centre  of  the  broad, 


A   GERMAN  IDYL, 


409 


tr»nq„„  ,ana,e,pe,  wa,  a  happy  .alloy,  a>vay  fr„„  „,„ 
res*.,,  w„,.,.l.    The  whUtle  of  ,ho  locomotive  does  not 
p.eree  the  roeky  IIS,.el,  on  the  other  side  of  which  t.,o 
railroad  runs.     The  poa,.ants  who  i„h.,bit  the  valley  rarely 
leave  .l,e,r  homes;  neither  foreian  „or  native  ,o„rL,t  ever 
comes. hither;  perhaps  a  fe»- papers  are  taken,  but  they 
don  t  often  contain  any  news:  and  «,  the  v.alley  lives  on 
m  a  lazy  undisturbed  life  of  its  own.    V  I  ever  shouli 
become  thoronghly  exhausted  in  body  and  brain,  tired  of 
»-ork,  s,ck  of  excitement,  and  surfeited  wkh  the  restraints 
of  »c.ety,  I  shall  take  two  chambers  in  the  old  castle  ( ihe 
grandmother  promised  to  let  me  have  them),  and  bury 
.nyself  ,n  Fnedrichswerth,  until  its  repose  ce.,ses  to  be  a 
balm,  and  labor  is  welcome  again. 

I  did  not  return  to  GothI  a:  sunset,  as  I  had  designed 
first  I  n.ust  have  coffee  in  the  duke's  cup;  then  a  table 
l.ad  been  set  in  one  of  the  vaulted  chambers-the  parson 
^as  tliere,  and  the  roast  would  soon  be  ready.     «  Go  now  V 
No,  indeed.    You  don't  stir  until  after  supper!"  said  the 
commandress.     The  roast  was  done  to  a  turn,  the  salad 
succulent,  and  the  wine  (out  of  princely  vaults,  if  of  ple- 
beian quality)  genial  and  cheering.     Extra  candles  were 
lighted,  and  the  eyes  of  the  bold  beauties  on  the  walls 
bnghtened  as  they  beheld  the  unusual  festival.     The  hour 
was  late  when  at  last  my  carriage  was  allowed  to  start- 
and  the  clocks  of  Gotha  struck  midnight  before  I  reached 
the  city.     But  I  carried  with  me  a  new  picture    and  if 
you  could  see  if  as  I  now  do,  you  would  not  exchange  it 
lor  a  genuine  Claude  Lorraine. 


18 


-^<E!BgS?: 


IH 

XXXIV. 


Hi 


THE  THREE   HUNDREDTH  ANNIVERSARY  OF 
THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  JENA. 

[AUGUST,    1868.] 


In  Europe  the  year  1858  was  distinguished  principally  for 
the  number  of  civic  and  military  festivals  of  a  national 
character,  which  were  celebrated  in  various  countries. 
Greece  had  her  royal  jubilee ;  Russia,  the  dedication  of 
her  greatest  church ;  Sweden  and  Norway,  their  camp  at 
Axevalla;  Spain,  her  water  celebration  at  Madrid;  and 
France,  her  pompous  show  at  Cherbourg.  In  Germany, 
the  great  event  of  the  year  was  the  celebration  of  the 
three-hundredth  anniversary  of  the  University  of  Jena— 
a  festival  which  possesses  more  than  local  importance, 
through  the  peculiar  history  of  this  University,  and  the 
part  which  its  students  have  taken  in  the  political  move- 
ments of  the  last  half  century.     To  no  institution  of  the 


THE   UNIVEKSITT   OF  JEXA.  4jj 

kind  i„  an  Germany  belong,  sud,  a  ...nltitnde  of  interest 

"a\c  called  together  so  remarkihin  o«  „         i., 

o  ou  iciaarKablc  an  assemblasre  of  nor 

-.as  were  eol.ee.ed  in  the  valle,  of  the  Saale  l  A.^ 

Among  the  German  youth  Jena  ha,  been  for  a  long  time 
e  &vonte  University;  and  if  no.  .t  present  .oCT 

ib  ra       inl:  r;;' .""^-'-^'^    ''  ''  '-e  -t  of 

principles,  m  religion  as  weU  as  in    nolif,V«    i, 
been  o«en  availed  .  revolutionary  and  het  ^r;    : 
ha,  always  steadily  maintained  k,  eharacter.    In      '  'L 
he  tra..t,„„s  of  the  i^ur.W^^.  ,„,  •„  ^^^^^  ^"S.  » 

t  holds  a  proud  pre-eminen.. ;  and  this  magnetism  co'! 
tjnues  to  draw  into  its  Mds,  as  heretofore,  the  bt^  i 

;be  most  aetive,  free,  and  daring  eharaete;  Of  ea::::- 

'-o-L-ofr.:::;;-:^ 

-  understanding  of  a„  that  too M  d^T' l'" 
bration,  whieh  was  espee.ally  of  a  charaet  ^rl !  : 
reanimate  the  past.  ^"'' 

John  Frederiek  the  Magnanimons,  Elector  of  Saxonv 

Luther's  death  in   1546  Charl.,  xr  a  ■  '  *^''' 

thp  Pof  .  '  ®^  ^  •  <3etermined  to  crush 

the  Reformation  by  force  of  armo  \.     . 

y  lorce  Of  arms,  he  at  once  put  himself 


mn 


I 


412 


AT   UOME   AND   ABROAD. 


at  the  head  of  the  Protestants.    Deserted  by  his  treacher- 
ous cousin,  Duke  Maurice  of  Saxony,  and  overcome  by  a 
superior  force,  he  was  taken  prisoner,  the  greater  part  of 
his  principality  given  to  the  duke,  and  himself  condemned 
to  dcatli.     The  Emj»eror,  however,  did  not  dare  to  carry 
this  sentence  into  execution,  but  kept  him  for  five  years  a 
pri.oner  in  Austria,  allowing  his  sons  to  retain  a  number 
of  Thllriugian  towns.     The  territory  ceded  to  Maurice,  to 
whom  the  title  of  Elector  was  transferred,  comprised  Wit- 
tenberg, whose  university,  founded  by  Frederick  the  Wise, 
was  the  very  hot-bed  of  the  Reformation, 
i  The  first  thought  of  John  Frederick  was  to  replace  this 
loss    by   the    establishment    of  a   new   university   in   the 
Thtlringian  domain  spared  to  his  sons.     Though  a  prisoner, 
and  so  impoverished  that  he  had  difficulty  in  supporting  a 
small  retinue  of  fiiithful  followers — though  discoura"-od  even 
by  INIelancthon— he  rerolved  to  found  a  Protestant  school. 
Passing  through  Jena  in  1547,  as  a  captive  in  the  Ejuperor's 
train,  he  had  an  interview  with  his  sons  in  the  crypt  of  the 
castle  (still  existing),  and  secured  their  co-operation.     The 
Dominican  convent  in  Jena  was  selected  for  the  purpose ; 
and  Melancthon,  who  Avas  then  living   in   Weimar,   was 
appointed   Professor   of  Theology  and    Philosophy,     He 
resigned,  however,  before  the  school  opened ;  but  two  of 
his  pupils— one  of  them,  Johann  Stigel,  a  noted  poet  and 
scholar  of  that  time — took  his  place.    The  new  academy 
was  solemnly  inaugurated  in  March,  1548,  in  the  presence 
of  the  three  young  Dukes,  while  their  father,  the  noble  old 
Elector,  was  still  a  captive  in  Austria.     Students  from  all 
quarters  soon  flocked  to  Jena ;  and  when,  after  the  Treaty 


THE   UNIVERSITY    OF   JENA. 


413 


of  Passau,  John  Frederick,  the  Magnanimous,  was  restored 
to  hberty  and  to  his  dignity  as  reigning  pruice,  the  great 
desire  of  his  heart  was  already  accoin{)lished.    The  chronicles 
of  those  days  describe  his  triumpha.it  return,  in  September, 
1552 ;  how  ho  stopped  for  some  days  to  hunt  in  the  forests 
of  Saal-vallcy;  how  he  dined  at  the  Prince's  Spring,  so 
called  to  this  day;  how  he  entered  Jena  in  the  afternoon, 
received  by  the  authorities,  burghers  on  horse  and  afoot,' 
ringing  of  bells,  and  bonfires  in  the  evening;  and  finally, 
how,  on  reviewing  the  long  ranks  of  students,  he  turned  to 
his  friend  Lucas  Cranacb,  the  celebrated  painter,  who  sat 
m  the  carriage  at  his  side,  and  exclaimed,  with  a  laugh  of 
delight:  "See,  there  is  Brother  Studium!^'    The  epithet 
was  taken  up  and  remembered,  and  "Brother  Studium" 
is  yet  a  household  \vord  in  Jena. 

The  new  school,  however,  had  not  yet  attained  to  the 
dignity  and  the  privileges  of  a  university.     It  was  simply 
an  academy  of  the  higher  class-a  decree  of  the  German 
emperor  being  necessary  to  invest  it   with   fhn    former 
character.     John  Frederick  died  in  1554,  but  in  his  last 
M'ill,  he  solemnly  commended  his  sons  to  continue  the  work, 
and  to  spare  no  expense  in  making  it  successful  "for  the 
glory  of  God  and  the  advancement  of  the  truth."    After 
Ferdinand  I.  had  succeeded  to  the  crown  of  Charies  V.,  the 
young  duke  John  William  made  personal  application  to 
hnn,  and  obtained  a  conditional  promise  of  his  consent. 
Johann  Schroter,  of  Vienna,  who  had  been  called  to  Jena 
a.  Professor  of  Medicine,  was  sent  to  continue  the  negotia- 
tions; and  finally,  on  the  loth  of  August,  1557,  an  imperial 
decree  was  signed,  granting  to  the  Academy  of  Jena  the 


ii 


, 


414 


AT  HOME   AND   AHKOAD. 


Hit; 


same  rights,  powers,  and  privileges  a-s  were  then  enjoyed 
by  the  universities  of  Padua,  Pavia,  Paris,  Leipsic,  etc, 
with  the  remarkable  clause,  tJ.at  the  preservation  and  pro- 
pagation  of  the  L.itlieraii  doctrine  was  fully  and  freely 
pennitted.  The  luiiversity  was  thus  founded  on  a  principle 
of  tolerance  unusual  in  those  days,  and  has  never  yet  for- 
feited  its  character. 

On  his  return  from  Vienna  with  the  imperial  charter, 
Schroter  was  received  with  the  honors  due  to  a  conqueror. 
The  students  and  burghers  of  tlie  town,  with  the  young 
dukes  at  their  head,  went  out  three  miles  to  meet  him,  and 
escorted  h.m  in  triumi.li  within  the  gates.     On  the  2d  of 
February,  1558,  the  university  was  inaugurated   with  all 
possible  pomp  and  solemnity— the  nobility  of  Thdringia 
taking  part   in   the  jirocession.     There  is   still   e.  tant  a 
description  of  the  scene,  from  which  we  learn  that  twelve 
mounted  trumpeters  led  the  way,  blowing  j.^ous  melodies; 
that  many  suits  of  gilded  armor  and  mantles  of  velvet  were 
to  be  seen;  that  the  stu.lents,  three  abreast,  reached  from 
St.  John's  Gate  to  the  market-i)lace,  that  the  solemnities 
commenced  with  singing  the  hymn:  "Come,  holy  Spirit," 
and  terminated  with  a  princely  joust  in  the  market-place, 
which  had  been  covered  with  sand— with  many  other  loss 
important  particulars.    The  2d  of  February,  1 858,  was  there- 
fore  in  reality  the  three-hundredth  anniversary;  but  the 
celebration  was  postponed  to  the  15th  of  August  (the  date 
of  the  charter),  on  account  of  the  more  favorable  season, 
and  of  the  latter  date  being  vacation  time  throughout 
Germany. 

The  history  of  the  past  and  present  student  life  in  Jena, 


THK   UXTVKRSITY    OK   JENA. 


415 


as  given  in  the  recently  published  work  of  the  Drs  Keil,  i^ 
e:  ;ec.lingly  curious  and  amusing.     A  correct  account  of 
almost  any  single  chiss     f  indi-.lduals,  continued  through 
three  centuries,  illustrates  the  relative  character  an.l  hj  rit 
of  the  time,  and  no  chws  more  so  than  the  students.     We 
are  therefore  m*,  niu<;h  surnn.sed  to  learn  that,  previous  to 
the  Thirty  Yeans'  War,  the  sons  of  the  Muses  at  Jena 
were  a  most  savage  and  ungovernable  set,  who  fought, 
plundere.1  vineyar<ls,  stole  chickens,  damaged  houses,  and 
violated  every  one  of  the  Commandments.     L,  short,  they 
did   everything   but   study.     The  "  evangelical  Lutheran 
doctrine"  was  propagated  but  in<lliierently  by  these  roys- 
terrig  youths,  whose  great  delight,  next  to  drinking,  was 
to  array  themselves  i  i  the  enormous  hose  of  the  time  (we 
have  an  account  of  sixty-six  yards  of  silk  being  tuquentiy 
used  for  a  single  pair),  velvet  jacket  and  cap,  and  sword, 
and  thus,  with  throat  bare  and  hair  floating  over  the  shoul- 
ders, to  splly  out   to  the  neighboring  villages,  beat  the 
young  men,  and  seduce  the  girls. 

Wolfgang  Ileider,  who  was  professor  in  Jena  at  fho  end 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  gives  a  wrathful  picture  of  the 
student  at  that  time.    The  irate  old  fellow  cannot  find 
words  violent  enough  to  express  his  dislike  of  tne  class. 
He  says:  "  He  either  yisits  the  public  exercises  net  at  all, 
or  quite  too  seldom  ;  he  attends  no  lectures.    Soraotimes 
he  listens  before  the  door,  in  nowise  that  he  may  learn  some- 
thing  advantageous,  but  so  that  he  may  pick  up  a  kw  phrases, 
and  retail  them  afterwards  among  his  brother  carousers,' 
imitating  the  voice,  manner,  and  gestures  of  the  professr  -s, 
and  creating  laughter.     In  the  morning,  the  lovely  and 


■^kT 


410 


AT   HOME   AXD   ABUOAD. 


' 


1 


tender  youth  sleeps  until  nine  ;  and  thereafter,  where  there 
remaliieth  any  time  before  dinner,  lie  employs  it  in  comb- 
ing his  hair,  curling,  adorning,  rubbing,  hunting  vermin, 
and  dressing  the  rum-blossoms  on  his  face.     When  he  has 
seated  himself  at  the  table  the  beast  devours  but  little  (for 
the  violent  drunkenness  of  yesterday  vill  not  permit  it, 
and  because  all  senses  arc  8tu]»ified,  Xature  will  not  suffer 
it),  and  he  also  converses  but  little  (for  what  kind  of  civi- 
lity can  dwell  in  such  a  hoggish  body  and  soul  ?).     In  the 
meantime,  however,  he  shakes  fiom  himself  a  full  l)urthen 
of  nonsensical  stupidities  and  disgusting  nastinesses— and 
truly  in  such  wise,  that  as  soon  as  he  opens  his  vile  snout, 
all  boys  and  maidens     an  away,  lest  they  may  be  infected 
by  the  breath  of  the  pestilential  plague."     Enougli  of  the 
old  professor,  who  quite  unconsciously  paints  his  own  cha- 
racter at  t'^e  same  time,  and  does  not  damage  his  subject 
quite  so  much  as  he  supposes.     The  students  were  bad 
enough  in  those  d.ays,  as  the  recordo  ^i  Jena  testify,  but 
somewhat  is  due  to  the  character  of  the  times.     Study 
and  seclusion  were  still  consi'^ered  monkish  ;   and  there 
was  altogether  too  much  restless  blood  in  the  veins  of  the 
rat  e  for  that  system  of  "  oxing"  (a  slang  word  for  "  drudg- 
ery") which  the  German  students  practise  nowadays. 

The  Thirty  Years'  War,  it  appears,  exercised  a  most 
de  noralizing  influence  upon  all  the  German  Universities. 
During  that  long  and  bloody  struggle,  all  classes  of  society 
became  more  or  less  brutalized.  Every  city  had  its  garri- 
son ;  the  halls  of  learning  became  barracks  for  the  soldiery, 
and  the  students  adopted  the  lawlessness  of  the  latter  with- 
out their  discipline.     An  old  writer.  Philander  of  Sitten- 


TUK    L'NIVKF{.SIT\    OF  JKXA. 


417 


wald,  thus  paints  the  character  of  the  acade.nic  youths  at 
Jenp, :  "  They  consider  it  as  boorish  as  a  boar'.s.hi(lc  to  bo 
dibgent ;  but  a  sign  of  nobility  to  be  foolish,  flmtastic 
asuune,  loaferish,  and  rowdy"  Even  in  those  days,  Jen.' 
distinguished  itself  above  all  other  universities  for  tho 
number  of  duels  daily  perpetrated  there-a  distinction 
wh.ch  It  still  enjoys.  A  rhymed  by-word,  which  originated 
then,  IS  even  yet  in  circulation  : 

"  Who  comes  from  Leipzig  without  a  wife, 
And  from  Halle,  ia  body  sound, 
And  from  Jena  without  a  wound— 
Ei  may  boast  of  a  lucky  life !" 

During  the  seventeenth  century,  a  practice  called  "Pen- 
nabsm,"  very  similar  to  the  English  custom  of  fa.-in^ 
prevailed.    The  younger  students  wer^  obliged  to  Terve 
the  older  for  the  term  of  one  year,  six  mor/.-s.  six  weeks,  six 
days,  S.X  hours,  and  six  minutes.    The  system  was  finally 
broken  up,  no  doubt  to  the  ^.eat  improvement  of  the  man- 
ners  of  the  students.     The  "pennals"  were  treated  in  the 
most  abominable  manner  ;  obliged  to  give  up  their  new  gar- 
nieuts  to  their  masters  and  go  about  in  rags ;  to  render  them 
all  sorts  of  menial  service,  and  be  beaten  in  acknowlecV. 
ment  of  it.     They  were  sometimes  forced  to  eat  a  me^s 
composed  of  sausage,   bread,  chopped  nettles,  pounded 
bncks,   ink,   mustard,    butter,   nut-shells,  salt,  and   clay  I 
The  students  finally  carried  their  lawlessness  ,o  far  as  to 
give  out  that  one  of  their  number  was  dead,  and  got  up  a 
grand  funeral,  at  which  the  clergy  and  focnlty  officiated  ; 
but  on  opening  the  coffin  at  the  grave,  as  was  then  customary 

18* 


.■i~-  ■"j4ic>'.,^j^?-:?!fflf? 


■'^^^^'*JJi,v-""".  '•-'}- 


■^h?3*^ 


418 


AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 


u 


it  was  found  to  contain — a  pickled  herring !  On  another 
occasion,  they  surrounded  the  carriage  of  a  neigliboring 
princess,  seized  her  horses  and  guards,  deliberately  turned 
her  Highness's  bonnet  wrong  side  foremost,  and  then  libe- 
rated her. 

These  wild  proceedings  were,  of  course,  met  by  attempts, 
on  the  part  of  the  faculty,  to  establish  a  rigid  and  despotic 
discipline,  and  the  collision  between  the  two  extremes  was 
all  the  greater.     Early  in  the  last  century,  however,  a  better 
spirit  began  to  appear.     As  the  proportion  of  educated 
men  increased,  the  desire  for  knowledge  and  the  ability  to 
study  inrceased  also.    As  the  students  became  more  diligent, 
their  manners  and  mcials  improved,  and  the  scandalous 
excesses    of  the  former  century  gradually  disappeared. 
The  influence   of  the  French  Revolution,  and  the  warg 
which  followed,  was  precisely  the  opposite  of  the  Thirty 
Years'  War.    The  thousand  students  of  Jena  displayed  a 
degree  of  frank,  manly  character,  a  conscientious  adher- 
ence to  their  studies,  an  elegance  of  manner,  and  a  refine- 
ment  of   dress  and  language,   which   presented  a  most 
remarkable  contrast  to  +heir  predecessors  of  fifty  years 
before.     In  their  enthusiasm  for  the  Rights  of  Man,  caught 
from  the  millennial  dreams  of  the  early  French  Republicans, 
the  brutal   element  melted  away.    The  birth  and  rapid 
growth  of  a  grand  national  literature  also  exercised  a  pow- 
erful effect  upon  them.     Lessing,  Herder,  and  Klopstock 
had  written :  Goethe  and  Schiller  were  in  the  prime  of 
youth.     From  this  porioi  on,  the  German  students  have 
exhibited  a  steady  enthusiasm  for  M-hatever  is  best  and 
noblest  in  the  national  character.     They  have  kept  alive 


THE   UNIVERSITY   OF   JENA. 


419 


that  spirit  of  enlightened  progress,  which  has  already  bro- 
ken  many  a  rusty  shackle  of  the  Past. 

I  have  not  space  to  follow,  in  detail,  the  later  history  of 
the  University.    There  was  the  famous  «  March  to  Nohra," 
in  1792,  when  they  left  in  a  body,  because  the  government 
endeavored  to  enforce  an  obnoxious  order  by  the  power  of 
the  soldiery;  the  fiery  times  of  1813,  when,  singing  the 
songs  of  Korner,  they  marched  to  battle  for  the  common 
Fatherland  ;  the  establishment  of  the  £urschenscha/t,  as  a 
means  of  creating  and  preserving  a  truly  national  spirit 
throughout  Germany;  the  mass  convention  on  the  Wart- 
burg,  in  1817,  which  made  the  treacherous  princes  tremble 
in  their  shoes ;  and  the  waves  of  sudden  excitement  which 
followed  the   Revolutions  of  1830  and  1848.    All  these 
asL'ociations  are  the  inheritance  of  every  student  who  enters 
Jena.    The  ground  he  treads  is  not  simply  a  quiet  sanctuary 
of  learning;  it  is  hallowed  in  his  eyes  by  events  which  are 
part  of  the  political  history  of  Germany,  and  not  without 
some  reason  does  he  call  the  place  "Athens,"  as  he  remem- 
bers the  eloquent  voices  that  have  spoken  for  German  free- 
dom there. 

One  of  the  features  of  the  Three-hundredth  Anniversary 
was  the  inauguration  of  a  bronze  statue  of  John  Frederick 
the  Magnanimous,  by  Drake,  of  Berlin.  The  stout  old  duke 
stands  in  the  centre  of  the  market  square,  with  an  open 
Bible  in  one  hand,  and  a  drawn  sword  in"  the  other.  His 
face  is  square  and  heavy,  neck  thick,  and  shoulders  broad, 
but  there  is  a  great  deal  of  energy  in  his  firm-set  jaws  and 
bold  brow.  An  interesting  feature  of  the  inauguration  was 
the  singing,  by  a  full  choir,  of  the  famous  "Hymn  of  Con- 


420 


AT   HOME   AND   ABItOAD. 


iWli  mm 


solation,"  composed  by  John  Frederick  himself,  when  a 
captive  in  Austria.  As  a  speciiaen  of  the  stmdy,  downright 
language  of  the  timcs-of  the  dialect  whose  words  were 
more  potent  than  cannon-balls,  ia  the  mouth  of  Luthor,  I 
translate  a  few  stanzas  of  it  : 

As'i  pleases  God,  so  it  pleases  ire: 

Nor  am  I  led  astray, 
Though  biting  smoke  confound  mine  eyes, 
And  though  along  my  way 
All  is  obscure, 
Yet  I  am  sure 
I  That  God  doth  clearly  see  it: 

As  He  may  send, 
So  must  it  end : 
If't  must  be,  then,  so  be  it: 

As't  pleases  God,  I  am  content, 

I  care  not  for  the  rest; 
What's  not  to  be,  why,  let  it  go— 
The  obedient  heart  is  blest. 
Although  my  mind 
Be  scarce  resigned, 
His  grace  will  grant  assistance: 
I  firmly  trust — 
What  must  be,  must ; 
'Gainst  God  there's  no  resistanoei 

As't.pleases  God,  so  let  it  pass: 

The  birds  may  take  my  sorrow: 
If  fortune  shuns  my  house  to-day, 
I'll  wait  until  to-morrow. 
The  goods  I  have 
I  still  shall  save, 


m  It 


TIIK   1:NIVEUS1TV    OF  JKNA. 


421 


Or,  if  some  part  forsake  me, 

Thank  God,  who's  juat, 
"What  must  be,  must ; 

Good  luck  may  still  o'ertake  me. 


As't  pleases  God,  so  I  accept, 
For  pationco  only  pray ; 
Tis  lie  alone,  whose  arm  can  help — 
Can  reach  me,  though  I  lay 
In  anguish  soro, 
At  Death's  dark  door : 
There's  rescue  for  the  sinner  I 
I  am  but  dust: 
What  must  be,  must ; 
So  be  it— still  I'm  winner! 


The  15th  of  August,  1858,  fell  upon  Sunday,  on  which 
day  it  was  not  possible  for  me  to  he  present ;  but  as  the 
celebration  lasted  three  days,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  witness- 
ing  what,  to  me,  were  its  most  interesting  features. 
Leaving  Gotha  early  on  Monday  morning,  I  quitted  the 
railroad  at  Apolda,  a  large  manufacturing  town  on  the 
Saale,  nine  miles  from  Jena.  It  was  well,  perhaps,  that  I 
had  not  arrived  on  the  preceding  day.  The  influx  of  eight 
thousand  visitors  into  the  little  town  had  quite  exhausted 
the  means  of  transportation  and  the  sleeping  accommoda- 
tions. Every  vehicle  in  the  country,  from  the  baronial 
caliche  to  the  peasant's  dung-cart,  was  in  requisition ;  and 


in  all  the  villai^c?,  for  miles 


had  been  bespoken  weeks  before 


around,  every  bed  and  hayloft 


M,^ 


422 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


By  good  luck  we  obtained  seats  in  a  sort  of  extcmpora- 
neous  omnibus,  and  were  among  the  first  departures.     The 
long  street  of  Apolda,  down  which  we  drove,  wore  the 
gayest  festival   dress.      From   every  house   floated   long 
streamers,  bearing  the  colors  of  the  German  States  and  of 
the  students'  societies— conspicuous  among  them  the  red, 
black,  and  gold  of  the  old  German  Empire,  the  blue  and 
white  of  Saxony,  and  the  blue,  yellow,  ani  white  of  Saxe- 
Weimar.      The  beer-houses,  freshly  sanded   and   decked 
with  green  boughs,  were  wide  open  to  the  day,  and  a  vision 
of  brown  mugs  crowned  with  foam  continually  flitted  past 
the  windows.     Emerging  from  the  town,  we  slowly  climbed 
to  the   high,   undulating   upland,   where,   fifty-one    years 
before,  the  power  of  Prussia  was  crushed  at  a  single  blow. 
Far  as  we  could  see,  the  harvest-fields  were  deserted ;  the 
golden  wheat  waved  idly  in  the  hot  wind ;  over  leagues  of 
landscape  labor  had  ceased.     It  was  a  universal  holiday. 

Our  progress,  slow  enough  at  best,  from  the  load  we 
carried,  was  rendered  still  more  so  by  our  impatience  ;  but 
the  upland  was  crossed  at  last,  and  we  rapidly  descended 
into  the  valley  of  the  Saale.  On  our  left  rose  a  huge 
wooden  cross,  on  the  summit  of  a  precipitous  rock,  whence 
Luther,  it  is  said,  once  preached  to  the  multitude.  Plea- 
sant  cottages  began  to  appear,  then  scattering  beer-gar- 
dens, and  finally,  a  triumphal  arch  of  fir  and  oak  welcomed 
us  to  the  rejoicing  Jena.  The  town  lies  in  a  deep  basin,  at 
the  intersection  of  three  valleys,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by 
high,  dry,  bare-washed  hills,  which  produce  an  excellent 
red  wine.  The  Jynavese  boast  -f  the  resemblance  of  the 
landscape  to  that  which  surrounds  Athens;  but  I  could  not 


THE  UNITERSITY  OF  JENA.  423 

flatter  them  by  finding  it  out.     In  front  of  us,  it  is  true 
there  was  a  single  conical  peak  which  might  answer  for 
Mount  Lycabettus;  but  where  was  the  Acropolis  ?-wher9 
PenteUcus?_where  the  Mgcm  and  its  isles? 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  a  dignified  old  gentleman  in  black 
who  sat  beside  me,  «t  ere  is  the  Hausberg!  there  is  the 
Fox-tower!  Yonder  is  Ziegenham,  under  the  woods-do 
you  see?  And  there  goes  the  path  to  Lichtenhain!  I 
wonder  if  the  beer  is  still  as  good  as  ever!"  Behind  us 
somebody  sang  the  old  song,  familiar  to  all  Jena  students : 

"  On  the  mountains  the  castles, 
In  the  valley  the  Saale, 
In  the  city  tho  maidens, 

The  same  as  before : 
Te  dear  old  companions, 
Where  wait  ye  my  coming? 
Alaal  ye  are  scattered 
The  wide  world  all  o'er  I" 

I  looked  around  on  the  wonderfully  picturesque  forms  of 
the  mountains,  which  inframe  the  valley-basin.  The  Fr 
tower  stood  against  the  sky,  on  its  lofty  ridge;  the  Kunitz- 
burg  rose  blue  in  the  distance,  and  many  a  fair  viHao-e  lay 
nestled  in  the  heart  of  the  green  dells.  Bright  and  beauti- 
ful as  they  appeared  to  me,  basking  in  sunshine,  gay  with 
banners,  and  ringing  with  j.ibilant  music,  there  was  a  tone 
of  sadness  in  the  landscape  for  the  gray-heads  around  me, 
and  their  eyes  grew  suddenly  dim. 

I  felt  that  I  had  no  right  to  witness  their  emotion,  and 
turned  my  eyes  upon  the  city.    There  was  a  flapping  of 


I 


424 


AT   HOME   AXD   ABKOAD. 


flags  in  the  wind :  a  bee-like  hum  of  music  graclually  filled 
the  air,  and  the  quaint  old  gabled  dwellings,  buried  up  to 
their  roof-tiles  in  garlands,  seemed  to  sway  hither  and 
thither  as  their  drapery  was  moved.  Thick  wreaths  of 
oak  leaves,  studded  with  the  scarlet  berries  of  the  mjountaiu 
ash,  hung  from  window  to  window;  young  firs,  dug  up 
bodily,  were  planted  at  the  doors,  and  long  streamers  of 
gay  colors  floated  from  the  eaves.  In  all  Jena,  there  was 
not  a  house  or  building  of  any  description  without  its  deco- 
ration of  flags  and  garlands.  The  windows  were  open  and 
full  of  bright  faces,  the  streets  crowded  with  student-caps 
of  every  hue,  even  the  old  graduates  wearing  the  colors  of 
their  youth,  and  our  progress  was  continually  impeded  by 
rollicking  companies,  singing  '■'•  gaudeamiis  igitur^^  or  some 
other  classic  melody. 

But  most  impressive  of  all  was  the  sight  of  the  recogni- 
tions of  old  friends.  The  gray-heads  in  the  omnibus  were 
continually  shouting:  "Karl,  is  it  thou?"  "God  bless 
me,  there  is  Hardenberg !"  "  Ah  !  brother  Fritz,  art  thou 
here,  too  ?" — while,  more  than  once,  as  we  passed  onwards, 
I  saw  men  stop,  stare  doubtfully  at  each  other,  and  then 
open  their  arms  for  a  glad  embrace.  "Ah!"  thought  I, 
"  it  will  be  the  merest  chance  if  I  find  any  one  of  riy  friends 
in  this  crowd."  But  as  we  drove  into  the  irarket-square, 
where  John  Frederick  the  Magnanimous  stood  resplendent 
in  new  bronze,  my  name  was  suddenly  shouted,  and  a 
powerful  but  friendly  arm  pulled  me  down  from  the  omni- 
bus. "Andree!"  I  exclaimed,  for  it  was  really  that  distin- 
guished geographer.  "To-day's  procession  is  over,"  said 
he,  "but  come  into  'The  Snn'  and  drink  a  seidl  of  beer, 


THE   UNIVEKSITY   OF   j£NA. 


425 


and  then  we  will  go  to  dinner  in  the  Beutschen  Hcf,  where 
there  are  many  people  whom  you  will  like  to  know." 

So  said,  so  done:  but  the  way  into  "The  Sun"  was 
blocked  by  a  crowd  of  young  students,  gathered  about  an 
aged  man,  cheering,  shaking  liis  hand,  and  talking  all  toge- 
ther  with  a  singular  enthusiasm.  "  Who  is  it  ?»  we  asked. 
*' Have  you  not  seen  him  before?"  answered  a  young  fel- 
low :  « it  is ,  from  Holstein.    Look  at  his  hat— class  of 

1V89!  He  heard  Schiller's  introductory  as  Professor  of 
History,  and  took  part  in  the  March  to  Xohra !  His  son 
and  grandson  are  both  graduates  of  Jena,  and  are  here 
with  him!"  What  an  unwonted  light  there  was  in  the  old 
man's  eyes !  How  he  joined,  with  cracked  voice,  as,  form- 
ing a  circle  around  liim,  they  sang  the  stirring  "Schleswig- 
Holstoin,  sea-surrounded,"  the  Marseillaise  of  the  Baltic 
shore ! 

One  could  not  be  ten  minutes  in  such  an  atmosjihere, 
without  feeling  its  contagion.  The  pulse  beats  quicker, 
the  blood  runs  warmer,  the  eyes  brighten,  and  the  frame 
seems  to  dilate,  as  if  you  felt 

"  the  thews  of  Anakim, 

The  pulses  of  a  Titan's  heart" 

Soon  your  lungs  become  accustomed  to  the  oxygen  of  the 
popular  excitement,  and  you  live  a  faster,  freer,  more 
exalted  life.  It  is  an  intoxication  which  no  earthly  vintage 
can  produce ;  and  the  man  who  can  or  would  desire  to 
withstand  it,  deserves  that  his  name  should  never  make  a 
single  human  heart  throb  the  faster. 

On  the  way  to  dinner  we  passed  the  University  Build- 


«( 


1 


426 


AT   HOME  AXD   ABROAD. 


ings,  including  the  old  Dominican   Convent  wherein  tho 
institution  was  first  founded.    As  we  were  looking  at  the 
window  of  the    Career^   where    refractory   students  are 
imprisoned,  an  old  man,  who  was  surveying  the  ground, 
shook  his  head,  saying :  "  Ah !   there  are  great  changes 
here.    Everything  is  ruined — ruined.     One*  there  was  a 
deep  moat  under  the  career  window.    We  could  hide  there 
at  night,  and  when  our  friends  above  let  down  strings,  we 
sent  them  up  seidls  of  beer  and  pipes  of  tobacco.    It  is 
filled  up — you  couldn't  do  it  now.     This  they  call  Progress 
— Civilization  ! "  he  added  scornfully,  turning  away  from 
us.    In  the  dining-hall  I  found  many  characters  renowned 
in  the  annals   of  the    Burschcnschafl.     There    was   Karl 
Horn,  of  Mecklenberg,  the  foimder  of  the  Society,  who, 
on  the  19th  of  January,  1816,  when  the  students  solemnly 
celebrated  the  Peace  of  Paris  and  the  Liberation  of  Ger- 
many, planted  an  oak  tree  in  the  square  where  the  French 
had  encamped    ten    years  before — a  tree   dedicated    to 
German  Freedom  and  German  Unity,  which  is  still  flou- 
rishing, and  held   as  sacred  as  was  ever  any  oak  of  the 
Druid  groves.     There  was  Hase,  Member  of  the  French 
Academy,  who  had  come  from  Paris  to  attend  the  cele- 
bration, Brockhaus  of  Leipzig,  and  many  other  men  of 
note. 

A  rosy-cheeked,  white-headed  old  gentleman  sat  opposite 
to  me  at  the  table.  I  discovered,  ere  long,  that  he  was 
Dr.  Vogel,  father  of  the  lost  African  traveller.  The  latter, 
it  will  be  remembered,  reached  "Wara,  the  capital  of 
Waday,  in  1856,  whence  came,  shortly  afterwards,  a 
report  that  he  had  been  beheaded  by  order  of  the  Sul- 


THK   UNIVERSITY   OP  JEXA. 


427 


tan.  Since  then,  nothing  further  has  been  heard  from 
him,  and  it  seems  now  but  too  certain  that  his  name  must 
be  added  to  the  list  of  those  heroes  who  have  fallen  on  the 
great  geographical  battlefield  of  Africa.  7  father,  how- 
ever,  assured  ra^:  that  he  still  ha.-  hope  that  lus  son  i's  only 
kept  a  close  prisoner  in  Waday,  and  that,  if  he  lives,  he 
may  yet  find  means  of  escape.  I  could  not  give  him  any 
encouragement  for  this  belief,  althoiigh  Dr.  Barth  had 
iavored  it. 

In  the  afternoon  the  visitors  betook  themselves  to  the 
summer  resorts  of  their  favorite  societies,  in  the  viUages 
round  about.     The  ThUringians  marched  out  to  Lichten- 
hain,  where  ray  friend  Ziegler  reigned  as  Thus  XLVH 
clad  in  coronet  and  ducal  robes,  with  his  ministers,  min' 
strels,   and  jesters.     The   Franconians   went   off   up  the 
valley  of  the  Saale,  the  Germanians  and  members  of  the 
old  Burschenschaft  to  Ziegenhain  ;  while  others,  deterred 
by  the  heat,  remained  in  the  city  to  drink  the  cool  brewage 
of  the  "Burgkeller"  and  the  "Rose."    We  fell  in    by 
chance,  with  the  Franconians,  among  whom  we  found'two 
acquamtances,  but  as  their  rendezvous   did  not  promise 
much  amusement,  we  set  off  over  the  mountain  to  Ziegen- 
1'a.n.     It  was  a  terrible  job  to  climb  the  height,  with  the 
afternoon  sun  beating  upon  our  backs,  but  we  were  well 
repaid  by  the  superb  view  from  the  summit.     Jena  lay  at 
our  feet,  wrapped  in  wreaths  and  banners,  and  the  sound 
of  her  rejoicing   came   up  to  us  in  a  famt,   melodious 
murmur.     In   a  deep  dell  on  the  right  was  Ziegenhain, 
with  the  lofty  gray  square  of  the  Fox-tower  crowning  the 
•leight  beyond  it. 


I 


428 


AT   HOM£   AND    ABROAD. 


The  liouses  of  the  village  wore  deserted,  and  we  were  at 
a  loss  which  way  to  turn,  when  a  prolonged  shout  rose  from 
among  the  trees  below.  Here  some  hundreds  were  assem- 
bled,  in  a  close  beer-garden,  shaded  M-ith  vines,  and  half-a- 
dozen  barrels  on  tap  outside.  Politics  was  the  order  of  the 
day,  and  opinions  were  uttered  with  an  eloq-iience  and  a 
boldness  which  astonished  me.  The  old  blood  of  1817 
awoke  again  in  the  slufxish  veins  of  the  gray-headed 
Hurschen,  and  the  sentin-jnt  "One  Parliament  for  Ger- 
many, and  above  the  German  Princes ! "  was  received  with 
a  storm  of  cheers.  When  the  sun  set,  they  began  to  return. 
'  I  fell  into  the  long  procession  beside  a  clergyman  from 
Holstein,  and  thus,  singing  the  ffaucleamus,  we  marched 
back  the  three  miles,  and  disbanded  before  the  statue  of 
John  Frederick. 

In  the  evening  there  was  a  grand  Tcneipe  in  the  Prince's 
Cellar.  The  halls  were  crowded  to  suftbcation,  as  the  men 
of  1813  and  1817  were  to  be  present.  The  songs,  by  five 
hundred  voices,  were  grand  and  stirring  beyond  all  de- 
scription. Horn,  after  a  speech  wherein  he  described  the 
planting  of  the  sacred  Oak,  called  for  a  song  of  Ernst 
Moritz  Arndt,  which  was  sung  on  the  Wartburg,  soon  after 
the  Burschcnschaft  was  founded : 


"  In  happy  hour  have  we  united, 

A  mighty  and  a  German  band, 
Our  souls,  to  truth  and  honor  plighted. 

From  earnest  lips  a  prayer  command ; 
For  solemn  duties  we  assemble. 

In  high  and  holy  feeling  bound. 
So  let  our  breasts  responsive  tremblo 

Our  harps  give  out  their  fullest  sound  I" 


THE   UXl VKItSITY   OP  JENA. 


429 


On  these  occasions  tlie  affectionate  and  confidential  Du 
(thou)  was  altogether  in  use.  Stately  diplomatists  an.l 
reverend  doctors  of  divinity  hailed  as  brothers  the  wild, 
young  generation  of  students,  who,  with  long  hair,  bared 
throats,  and  ribbons  of  black,  red,  and  gold,  darte(^.  'Uher 
and  thither.  "Brother,"  sjiid  one  of  these  fellows  to  n.e, 
as  I  leaned  against  the  wall,  "canst  thou  find  no  place? 
where  is  thy  beer?  Hal  take  this  «eit//.  Strike-hurrah 
for  Jena ! " 

Towards  midnight  it  suddenly  occurred  to  us,  that  we  had 
made  no  provision  whatever  for  our  lodgings.    The  night 
was  warm  and  balmy,  but  our  aching  bones  coveted  an 
easier  bed  than  the  pavin^tones.    Hurrying  back  to  "  The 
Sun,"   we  succeeded  with  great  difficulty  in   catching  a 
waiter  and  holding  him  fast.     "  Can  you  give  us  beds  ?  " 
The  question,  coming  at  such  a  t.me,  struck  him  dumb. 
"  Beds !  these  is  no  bed  to  be  had  in  Jena."     "  Is  there  a 
hay-loft  ?"     "  Yes."     "  Then,"  said  I,  "  reserve  twenty-fuur 
square  feet,  and  send  me  the  groom  immediately !"    The 
man  departed :  presently  I  saw  him  in  communication  with 
the  head-waiter,  and  my  surprise  may  be  guessed  when  the 
latter  came  up  and  said:  "If  the  gentlemen  will  not  object 
to  sleeping  in  a  room  through  which  two  other  guests  must 
pass,  I  can  furnish  them  with  beds."     I  took  out  my  purse 
and  offered  to  jmy  for  them  in  advance,  s.aying :  "  We  have 
no  baggcige,  as  you  see,  and  could  therefore  easily  slip  off 
in  the  morning."    His   eyes  opened  wide.     "What   an 
idea !  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing !  " 
The  next  morning,  two  of  my  friends  inquired 
Americans."     "They  are  no  Americans,"  said  h 


430 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


been  in  America  myself,  and  can  tell  one  when  I  see  him. 
Don't  let  these  people  deceive  you,  if  they  say  they  came 
from  there !" 

At  ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  the  grand  commemorative 
procession  was  repeated  for  the  third  and  last  time,  in  the 
same  order  as  on  the  previous  days.    Two  features  in  it 
particularly  interested  me— the  student-mai-shals,  in  their 
picturesque  costume  of  the  Middle  Ages   (slashed  black 
velvet  doublet,  hose,  liat,  plume,  and  sword),  and  the  Faculty 
of  the  University,  in  their  heavy  gowns  of  blue,  green  and 
purple  velvet,  and  plain,  round  caps  of  the  same  material. 
)    Some  of  the  latter  wore  gold  chains,  and  other  ancient 
badges  of  their  office.     Conspicuous  in  the  procession  were 
the  various  deputations  of  students  from  other  Universities, 
distinguished  by  the  different  colors  of  their  scarfs,  and  the 
feathers  in  their  mediaeval  caps.     The  Prime  Ministers  of 
the  Duchies  of  Saxe-Weimar,  Saxe-Coburg-G^tha,  Saxe- 
Altenburg,  and  Meiningen— which  lands  are  the  joint  pro- 
tectors {nutritores)  of  the  University— had  also  their  place, 
and  glittere  1  gorgeously  in  their  State  uniforins.     On  this 
day  the  honorary  degrees  were  conferred,  in  Latin  speeches 
of  astounding  a.      insupportable  length.     This  is  the  great 
fault,  on  all  occasions  of  the  kind,  in  Germany.     Whatever 
speaking  there  is,  is  sure  to  run  into  the  abstract  and  prolix. 
Nothing  is  short,  clear,  practical,  to  the  purpose:  every 
fact  g+nted  represents  a  long  chain  of  ideas  and  princij.les, 
which  must  be  elucidated ;  and  so  true  eloquence  is  the 
rarest  of  treats. 

I  had  not  the  patience  to  sit  in  the  church  and  hear  the 
classical  pumping,  but  prepared  myself  for  tl  •  afternoon's 


THB  FNIVEnsiTY   OF  JENA. 


431 


work  by  a  swim  In  the  c-Md  waters  of  Saale.    This  beinir 
the  last  of  the  three  clays,  was  to  be  dosed  by  a  Com  J, 
(which  IS  a  beer-and-tobacco  festival,  nmss  meeting,  student- 
-.Uation,  and  much   more,  all  in  one),  on   the  grandest 
scale    at  the  expense  of  the  city.    A  large  space  in  the 
bcaut^ul  nubhc  meadow  adjofning  the  town,  called  "The 
Puradise,"  was  inclosed  by  a  lofty  hedge  of  woven  fir 
boughs,  m  the  centre  of  which  stood  a  hall  300  feet  lon<. 
by  150  broad  with  a  roof  of  fir-thatch,  resting  on  pilhu: 
muffled  m  oak  leav.s.     There  were  seats  at  the  narrow 
tables  m  this  hall,  and  i„  the  space  aro-^nd  it,  for  nearly 
four  thousand  persons.    The  meadow  was  shaded  by  mag- 
".ficent  elm  and  linden  trees,  through  the  trunks  of  which 
gleamed  the  blue  waters  of  the  river. 

At  three  o'clock  a  steady  stream  poured  into  the  inclo- 
sure.    A  grand  orchestra  occupied  a  lofty  balcony  in  the 
centre  of  the  hall,  opposite  to  which  was  a  tribune  for 
speakers.    In  less  than  a.  -iour  nearly  every  seat  was  filled 
while  a  great  number  of  curious  "outsiders,"  ladies  princi- 
pally, moved  up  and  down  the  avenues  between     After 
the  commencement  of  the  ceremonies,  they  were  necessarily 
exclu-led,  but  gradually  gathered  on  the  outside  of  the  fir 
barricade,  over  the  dark-green  wall  of  which  they  formed  a 
second  hedge  of  beauty  and  of  brilliant  color.     I  had  seated 
myself  m  a  quiet  spot,  contented  to  remain  a  looker-on,  but 
was  suddenly  seized  upon  by  the  daughter  of  Germany's 
greatest  living  poet,  who  begged  my  escort  throuo-h  the 
multitude.    By  this  chance  I  was  thrown  into  the  companv 
of  several  Thtlringian  friends,  and  a^rreeablv  installed  at 
one  of  the  tables  of  the  Saxons,  outside  of  the  hall 


432 


AT   IIOAIK   AXD   ABROAD. 


Presently  shouts  and  music  announced  the  arrival  of  the 
Grand  Duke,  Karl  August  II.,  whose  uuty  it  was,  as  Hector 
rnagnificentissimus  of  the  University,  to  open  the  Commcrs. 
Accompanied  by  the  hereditary  prince,  he  mounted  tlie 
tribune,  male  a  few  appropriate  remarks,  and  drank  pros- 
perity to  tht  institution  in  a  huge  glass  of  beer.  A  trumpet 
then  gave  the  signal,  and  the  first  song,  pealing  simultane- 
ously from  three  thousand  voices,  buried  U3  in  its  magnifi- 
cent surges.  Enormous  casks  of  beer — the  gift  of  the  city 
— rolled  one  after  another  into  the  inclosure,  stopping  at 
the  headquarters  of  the  various  societies,  where  they  were 
instantly  placed  upon  tap.  Pipes  and  cigars  were  lighted, 
and  the  Commers  was  soon  in  full  blast. 

At  the  head  of  each  table  sat  a  President,  in  the  old 
German  costume,  with  crossed  swords  before  him.  As  the 
festival  became  more  unrestrained  and  jolly,  the  strict 
arrangement  of  the  societies  Avas  broken  u^  ;  old  friends 
sought  each  other,  and  groups  were  formed  by  mutual 
attraction.  I  found  myself  near  the  traveller,  Zeigler,  and 
opposite  the  younger  Brockhaus ;  on  one  side  of  me  was  a 
Thtiringian  editor,  on  the  other  Dr.  Alfred  Brehm,  whose 
ornithological  studies  had  carried  him  +o  Abyssinia  and  the 
White  I'file.  To  us  came  afterwards  Fritz  Renter,  a  noted 
Low-German  humorous  poet,  whose  heavy  round  face  and 
Saxon  beard  suggested  Hans  Sachi.  A  stream  from  the 
Thtiringian  cask  flowed  upon  our  board,  and  the  fresh 
acquaintances,  dipped  into  the  bro^^Ti  flood,  were  as 
thoroughly  seasoned  in  ten  minutes  as  in  months  of  ordi- 
nary intercourse.  Flood  after  flood  of  the  mighty  sea  of 
song  overwhelmed  us,  but  in  the  intervals  we  wandered 


THE   UNIVERSITY   OF  iSVA. 


433 


over  the  world,  and  through  the  realms  of  Literature  and 
Art.    We  clashed  glasses  with  the  pubUsher,  and  with 
some  venerable  professors  who  flanked  him ;  Fritz  Reater 
plied  us  from  the  inexhaustible  resources  of  his  fun ;  and 
finally  Brehm  and  I,  exawnging  recollections  of  Soudan, 
fell  into  Arabic,  to  the  great  edification  of  the  others.     I 
had  not  spoken  the  language  for  five  years,  and  at  first  my 
tongue  moved  but  awkwarr    -;  thfn,  as  if  the  juice  of  Ger- 
mau  barley  were  an  »  open      .ame !"  to  the  oriental  gutta- 
rals,  the  words  came  fast  and  free,     'ili-  green  turf  under 
our  feet  became  burning  desert  sand,  and  the  Undens  of 
the  Saale  were  changed  into  tufted  palms. 

The  sun  sank,  but  h  was  noo  missed.    A  mellow  glow  of 
inner  sunshine  overspread  the  festival-the  hearty,  genuine 
merriiient  of  four  thousand  hearts.     And  still  the  beer 
flowed,  and  still  the  glasses  clashed  like  the  meeting  sabres 
of  .-.ostile  armies,  and  the  hedge  of  bei,utiful  faces  looked 
ove/  the  fir  wall.     As  the  stars  began  to  twinkle,  the  white 
and  red  glare   of  pyrotechnic  fires  streamed   over  us; 
rockets  burst  into  meteoric  rain  far  abjve,  and   bonfires 
were  lighted  on  all  the  hills.    Then  came  the  Zandsfather, 
or  « Consecration  Song,"  with  its   solemn  ceremonial  of 
pierced  hats,   clashing  swords,   and  vows  of  honor  and 
fidelity.     On  account  of  the  immense  number  present,  it 
lasted  nearly  an  hour,  though  the  orchestra  so  timed  the 
performance  that  at  every  one  of  the  hundreds  of  tables 
the  same  st:.ge  of  the  consecration  might  be  witnessed.    A 
more  impressive  scene  could  scarcely  be  imagined. 

Finally,  the  discharge  of  a  cannon  and  the  flight  of  a 
istorm  of  rockets  announced  the  termination  of  the  jubilee, 

19 


484 


AT  HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


although  the   Commers  was  prolonged    until   after  mid- 
night.    For  two  or  three  days  afterwards,  however,  there 
were  festivals  of  the  societies  in  all  the  neighboring  vil- 
lages, and  the  three  or  four  thousand  guests  who  departed 
on  the  18th  were  scarcely  missed,  so  great  was  the  crowd 
that  remained.    Before  leaving,  I  again  made  the  round  of 
the  city,  in  order  to  view  the  residences  of  the  distin- 
guished  men  who  have,  at  different   times,   made  their 
homes  there.    Every  house  where  a  great  man  had  resided 
bore  a  shield,  bscribed  with  his  name  and  the  date  of  his 
visit.    The  popularity  of  the  University  may  be  judged 
from  the  fact  tnat  there  were  nearly  three  hundred  of  theso 
shields.     I.  will  give  some  of  the  most  notable  : 


Amdt,  1794. 

Blumenbach,  1770. 

Eichhorc,  1775-1788. 

Fichte,  1794-1799. 

Charles  FoUen,  1818-1819. 

GoetLe. 

Hegel,  1801-1807. 

"Wilhelm  von  Humboldt,  1797. 

Alexander  von  Humboldt,  1797. 

Klopstock,  1745. 

Kotzebue,  1779-1781. 

Leibnitz,  1662. 

Martin  Luther,  1522. 


MelancthoH,  1527-1536. 

Musaeuc,  1754. 

Oken,  1805-1819, 

Pufifendorf;  1656. 

Ruckert,  ItiU. 

Schelling,  1798. 

Schiller,  1789-1799. 
Schlegel,  1798-1802. 
Schubert,  1801. 
Tieck,  1799. 
Voss,  1802-1805. 
De  "V7ette,   1805. 
Winkelmann,  1741. 


Couat  Zmzendorf,  1728. 

On  the  following  afternoon  we  bade  adieu  to  Jena,  foot- 
ing it  back  over  the  uplands  to  Aookla.  The  o-arlands  of 
oak  leaves  were  a  little  withered,  but  the  scarlet  ash- 


THE  UNIVERSITY   OF  JENA.  435 

berries  still  gleamed  splendidly  on  the  panels  of  the  tri- 
umphal  arches,  and  the  multitude  of  banners  waved  as 
gaily  as  ever  in  the  wind.     The  faces  of  the  townspeople 
were  bright  and  joyous,  with  no  signs  of  lassitude  and 
exhaustion;  and  we  left  them,  not  glad  that  the  festival 
was  over  (as  one  usually  is,  after  such  an  excitement)   but 
regretting  that  we  could  not  participate  in  it  until  the  last 
song  should  be  sm,g.     From  beginning  t.  end,  I  did  not 
hear  one  unfriendly  word  spoken,  nor  did 'l  see  one  man 
completely  intoxicated,  although,   of  course,   theri  were 
many  who  were  flushed  and  gaily  excited.     It  was,  in  the 
best  sense  of  tJie  word,  ^jubilee,  and  as  such,  the  only  one 
I  ever  beheld. 


frt 


n 


XXXV. 


SOME  ENGLISH  CELEBRITIES. 


During  a  visit  to  London  in  September,  1851,  I  spent  ten 
days  in  the  same  house  with  Robert  Owen,  the  great 
Socialist,  whose  recent  death  has  recalled  public  attention 
to  his  life  and  labors.  He  was  then  nearly  eighty  years  old, 
but  as  bright,  gay,  cheerful,  and  hopeful  as  a  young  man. 
Even  then,  after  so  many  failures  and  disappointments,  his 
confidence  in  the  speedy  success  of  his  plans  was  unbounded. 
In  fact,  when  you  looked  upon  the  mild,  benevolent  brow, 
the  clear  bluish-gray  eye,  and  the  persuasive  mouth  of  the 
old  man,  it  was  difficult  to  call  him  away  from  his  sunny 
theories  to  the  hard,  conflicting  facts  which  arose  in  your 
mind.  But  he  woxild  not  be  called  away :  his  hope  over- 
flowed everything,  and  your  arguments  lay  buried  a  thou- 
sand fathoms  deep  under  his  gorgeous  promises  for  the 
future.     In  this  respect,  he  was  almost  a  phenomenon. 

"  Why,"  he  would  exclaim,  "  you  have  only  to  let  man- 
kind know  what  the  right  plan  of  Government,  the  true 


SOME  ENGLISH   CELEBRITIIS.  437 

organization  of  Society,  ig,  and  they  cmnot  reject  it.    Let 
ma  have  the  control  of  the  newspapers  of  Europe,  for  two 
ye-rs  only,  and  all  the  despotisms  will  be  peacefully  over- 
thrown, war  will  be  made  impossible,  labor  will  be  properly 
rewarded,  and  the  suffering  nations  will  be  happy '  »     As  I 
was  connected  with  a  newspaper,  he  at  once  commenced 
the  great  work,  by  sending  me  a  large  package  of  his 
pamphlets  the  next  morning.     It  was  rather  embarrassing 
to  me,   thenceforth,   to  be  asked  every  day   at   dinner: 
Well,  are  you  not  now  convinced  ?    Is  it  not  as  clear  as 
the  sun?"     when  I  had  found  no  time  to  read  the  bulky 
documents. 

Mr.  Ower.  believed  that  he  had  made  a  gr.at  impression 
on  Prince  Metternich,  from  the  extreme  politeness  with 
which  that  most  courteous  of  statesmen  had  received  Mm     1 
could  easily  fancy  the  cold,  elegant,  silver-voiced  Prince 
saying:  "Quite  true:  your  arguments  are  indeed  unan- 
swerable," at  every  pause  in  his  visitor's  enthusiastic  state- 
ment.    The  latter  described  to  me  his  final  interview     «I 
proposed,"  said  he,  "to  establish  the  reign  of  Love,  and 
Justice,  and  Humanity,  and  demonstrated  how  immensely 
every  country  must  prosper  under  such  a  rule.     ♦  At  present,' 
said  I,   '  every  Government  in  Europe  is  supported  by  two 
powers-Force  and  Fraud!'    The  Secretaries  who  were 
present  at  the  interview  turned  suddenly  from  their  desks 
and  stared  at  me,  astonished  at  what  they  considered  ray 
audacity.     The  Prince  noticed  this,  and  very  quietly  said : 
'Do  not  be  surprised,  gentlemen:  what  Mr.   Owen  has 
stated  is  perfectly  trne.'     Ah,  what  might  he  not  have  done, 
if  he  had  acted  according  to  his  knowledge  of  the  truth ! » 


438 


AT   HOMC   AND   ABROAD. 


A  year  later  I  was  in  London  again,  preparing  for  tha 
overland  journey  to  India.  In  the  dull,  drizzly  October 
weather,  the  great  capital  was  awaiting  the  funeral  of  Wel- 
lington, and  my  recollections  of  my  visit  are  brightened 
only  by  three  interesting  interviews.  The  first  of  these 
was  with  Kossuth,  who  was  living  in  a  very  quiet  and 
imostentatiuus  way  in  Kensington.  1  had  been  absent 
from  America  during  his  triumphal  visit,  from  the  fatigues 
of  which  he  had  not  entirely  recovered.  His  air  was  seri- 
ous,  if  not  sad,  though  he  sti"  spoke  of  Hungary  with  a 
desperate  hope. 

J  Mazzini,  who,  tliough  proscribed  and  exiled,  was  the 
terror  of  Italian  despots,  Avas  then  residing  in  Chelsea,  not 
far  from  Kossuth's  residence.  My  friend,  James  litissell 
Lowell,  had  occasion  to  call  upon  liim  on  some  business  of 
a  purely  literary  nature,  and  I  accompanied  him.  Entering 
the  dark  little  brick  house  to  which  we  had  been  directed, 
we  were  ushered  into  a  narrow  sitting-room,  whore  we 
were  presently  visited  by  an  Italian  secretary.  We  were 
questioned  rather  closely  as  to.  our  object,  for  it  was  known 
that  there  were  secret  spies,  both  of  X.aples  and  Austria, 
in  London,  and  Mazzini's  fi-iends  took  all  possible  precau- 
tions to  guard  liim  against  surprise.  After  waiting  some 
time,  we  were  visited  by  a  second  Italian,  whose  inspection 
was  apparently  satisfactory,  foi-  he  informed  us  that  Maz- 
zhii  would  receive  us. 

Finally,  at  the  end  of  an  Lour  the  great  Revolutionist — 
the  ex-Triumvir  of  the  last  Roman  republic— appeared. 
He  was  of  medium  height,  slender,  and  about  forty-five 
years  of  age.     The  character  of  his  head  presents  a  striking 


SOME   KNGUSU   CELEBKITIES. 


439 


contrast  to  that  of  Kossuth.    It  is  smaller,  but  the  fore- 
head is  high,  symmetrical,  and  nobly  arched  at  the  temples. 
His  large  black  eyes  bum  with  the  light  of  an  inextin- 
guishable enthusiasm,  and  when  he  speaks,  the  rapid  play 
of  the  muscles  of  his  mouth  expresses  the  intensity  of  his 
nature.     Ilis  complexion  is  a  pale  olive,  almost  sallow,  his 
hair  black,  thin,  inclining  to  baldness,  and  his  short  beard 
and  moustache  slightly  sprinkled  with  gray.     He  had  a 
worn  appearance,  as  if  exhausted  by  incessant  labor,  yet 
spoke  of  the  future  of  Italy  with  an  enthusiasm  and  a  faith 
which  nothing  could  dampen.    Though  so  far  off,  Rome 
Naples,  and  Milan  were  then  ripening  for  revolution,  unde,' 
the  potency  of  his  ardent  brain.     I  could  easily  understand 
the  magnetism  by  which  he  has  drawn  all  the  hopes  of 
Italy  to  himself— it  is  this  intense  faith  in  his  object. 

If  there  ever  should  come  a  time  when  the  true  biography 
of  Mazzini  may  be  safely  written  and  published,  it  wiU  be 
one  of  the  most  wonderful  books  of  the  age.    His  adven- 
tures during  the  last  ten  years  (judging  simply  by  what 
little  is  hinted,  not  told),  surpass  those  of  Baron  Trenck, 
La  Tour,  and  the  Chevalier  d'Eon.    There  is  scarcely  a 
parallel  to  the  splendid  audacity  with  wliich  he  has  visited 
Italy,  again  and  again,  with  the  whole  detective  force  of 
Austria,  both  open  and  secret,  lymg  in  wait  for  him.     It  is 
sad  that  a  life  of  such  self-devotion  should  be  slowly  wasted 
away  in  disappoiigments. 


I  shall  never  forget  the  dark,  rainy  day,  when  I  took  the 
train  to  Reading  on  my  way  to  visit  Mary  Russell  Mtford. 


440 


▲T   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


More  than  one  friendly  message  had  the  kind  cid  lady  sent 
to  me  on  my  wanderings;  but,  although  we  had  thus 
exchanged  greetings  for  years,  I  had  never  seen  her. 
Now,  however,  on  the  eve  of  a  long  journey  to  China  and 
Japan,  knowing  that  she  was  feeble  and  not  likely  to  live 
long,  I  could  not  leave  without  confirming  my  pleasant 
knowledge  of  her  by  a  personal  interview.  She  was  then 
Hving  in  her  cottage  at  Swallowfield,  a  little  village  six 
miles  from  Reading.  In  answer  to  my  note  of  inquiry,  she 
wrote:  "I  do  not  apologize  for  asking  you,  who  have 
lodged  in  the  huts  and  tents  of  all  the  tribes  of  the  earth, 
to  visit  an  invalid,  in  her  simple  hi^rmitage.  I  siiall  look 
for  you,  and  there  will  be  another  plate  at  my  little  table." 

On  reaching  the  red,  stiff,  stately  town  of  Reading — 
which  Miss  Mitford  describes,  under  the  name  of  "  Belford 
Regis,"  in  "  Our  Village,"— the  rain  descended  in  torrents. 
There  was  one  forlorn  hack  at  the  railway  station,  and  the 
driver  hesitated  a  little  -when  I  mentioned  Swallowfield. 
He  looked  at  me  a  moment,  and  named  a  plump-jg  fare. 
As  I  did  not  flinch,  but  placed  my  hand  on  the  cab-door, 
he  shook  his  capes,  jammed  his  hat  down  on  his  brows, 
mounted  the  box,  and  off  we  went.  Through  the  floods 
which  streamed  down  the  panes,  I  obtained  but  a  blurred 
and  unsatisfactory  view  of  the  scenery.  There  were  thorn 
hedges,  still  green,  on  either  side  of  the  road ;  the  yellow 
leaves  of  the  elms  and  the  dead  foliage  of  oaks  fell  in  blind- 
ing showers,  and  gr?y  hills  rose  or  sank  against  the  blank 
gray  sky. 

In  an  hour  I  saw  that  we  had  entered  a  little  village,  the 
houses  standing  apart  from  each  other,  and  well  embowered 


SOME   ENQUSH   CELEBRITIES.  44^ 

in  trees.  Presently  the  cab  stopped  at  a  triangular  garden- 
plot,  in  front  of  a  tall  old  two-story  house  of  brick.  Before 
I  had  alighted,  a  serious  old  man-ser^-ant  appeared,  coming 
down  the  gravel  walk  with  an  umbrella.  I  sent  my  con- 
veyance to  the  village  inn,  and  under  the  guidance  of 
"Sam,"  Miss  Mitford's  faithful  servitor,  was  soon  ushered 
into  her  comfortable  parlor-library.  Almost  at  the  same 
moment,  she  entered  through  another  door,  stretching  out 
one  hand  in  welcome,  while  the  other  held  a  cane  which 
supported  her  slow  and  tottering  steps. 

I  think  I  should  have  recognised  her  anywhere.     The 
short,  plump  body,  the  round,  cheerful  old  face,  with  cheeks 
still  as  rosy  as  a  girl's,  the  kindly  blue  eyes,  the  broad,  placid 
brow,  and  bands  of  silver  hair  peeping  from  beneath  the 
quaint  frilled  cap,  seemed  to  be  all  features  of  the  picture 
which  I  had  previously  drawn  in  my  mind.     But  for  a  gay 
touch  in  the  ribbons,  and  the  absence  of  the  book-muslin 
handkerchief  over  the  bosom,  she  might  have  been  taken 
for  one  of  those  dear  old  Quaker  ladies,  whose  presence,  in 
its  cheerful  serenity,  is  an  atmosphere  of  contentment  and 
peace.     Her  voice  was  sweet,  round,   and  racy,   with  a 
delicious  archness  at  times.     Sitting  in  deep  arm-chairs,  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  warm  grate,  while  the  rain  lashed  the 
panes  and  the  autumn  leaves  drifted  outside,  we  passed  the 
afternoon  in  genial  talk.     Charies  Kingsloy  had  left  but 
half  an  hour  before  my  arrival.     He  had  brought  with  him 
some  pages  of  his  poem  of  "  Andromeda,"  the  character  of 
Avhich  Miss  Mitford  described  to  me,  although  she  -ould 
not  repeat  the  Hr  5s. 

Her  talk  was  rich  with  reminiscences  of  the  great  authors 

19* 


442 


AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 


of  the  past  generation.     Walter  Scott,  Hannah  More,  the 
Porters,  Misa  Kd  -    ,o.i   .  Charles  Lamb,  Ilazlitt,  and  Cole- 
ridge she  hii. ,  kr-vvuj  but  her  literary  sympathies  were  of 
the  most   catholic  kuid,   and  she  spoke  with  a  glowing 
appreciation  of  the  younger  race  of  authors.    For  Mrs. 
Browning,  especially,  she  eciertair.cd  a  warm  personal  as 
well  as  intellectual  attachment.    Towards  evening,  Sam 
announced  dinner,  and  we  sat  down  to  the  neat  little  table, 
on  which  stood  a  venison  pie  that  needed   no   apology. 
While  we  were  thus  engaged,  the  Dowager  Lady  Russell, 
Miss  Mitford's  neighbor  and  friend,  arrived,  accompanied 
by  her  younger  son.     It  was  pleasant  to  see  the  cordial 
affection  with  which  they  regarded  her.     Presently  arose 
a  lively    debate   concerning  Louis  Xapoleon,  whom  Miss 
Mitford  admired,  while  young  Mr.  Russell  (like  most  Eng 
lishmen  at  that  time)  disliked  and  distrusted  him.    The 
latter  told  a  bit  of  gossip,  however,  at  which  his  good- 
tempered  oi)ponent  was  obliged  to  laugh  heartily.     "  Have 

you  not  heard,"  said  he,  "  what  Mrs. ,  who  knew  Louis 

Napoleon  well,  as  a  refugee  in  England,  said  to  him  in  Paris 
the  other  day  ?  She  was  at  the  ball  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville, 
and,  desiring  to  renew  her  acquaintance,  placed  herself 
several  times  in  his  way.  Noticing  that  he  saw,  but  avoided 
her,  she  at  last  took  a  position  where  he  would  be  obliged 

to  recognise  her.     '  Ah,  Madame ,'  said  he,  suddenly, 

'  depuis  qicand  ttes-vous  d  Paris  f '  '  Depuis  quinze  joitrs,'' 
she  quietly  answered, — '■^et  vous  ? '  " 

But  the  twilight  now  began  to  fall,  and  it  was  necessary 
that  I  should  hasten  back  to  Reading,  in  order  to  catch  the 
eveuuig   train.      Sam   ordered   the   cab   from   the   village 


SOME   ENGLISH    CELEBRITIES.  443 

tavern,  I  took  once  more  the  old  lady's  hand,  and  bade  her 
an  eternal  farewell.  She  Uved  three  years  more,  and  we 
still  corresponded,  even  when  voice  and  motion  failed,  and 
she  lay  for  months  propped  in  an  easy  choir,  with  life  only 
in  her  brain  and  heart,  power  only  in  eyes  and  hands. 
Thus  was  her  last  lettei^  to  me  written,  but  a  few  days 
before  her  death-a  letter  sublime  in  the  spirit  of  peace,  and 
tenderness,  and  resignation,  with  which  she  takes  leave  of 
the  world. 


I  had  twice  called  upon  Barry  Cornwall  with  letters  of 
introduction,  and  as  often  been  disappointed,  owing  to  his 
absence  from  London,  in  former  years.     In  July,   1856, 
however,  I  was  agreeably  surprised  by  a  cordial  note  from 
him,  inviting  me  to  breakfast  on  the  foUowing  day.    The 
poet  is  a  small  man,  with  a  slight,  yet  well-proportioned 
frame,  and  a  head,  which  at  first  sight    -cminds  one  of  the 
portraits  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  although,  you  afterwards  see 
that  it  is  much  more  softly  and  delicately  modeUed.    His 
hair  is  gray  (he  must  be  at  least  sixty-five  years  old,  having 
been  a  schoolfellow  of  Byron  and  Sir  Robert  Peel,  at  Har- 
row),  and  his  face  rather  pale  from  illness,  but  his  cheeks 
are  smooth  and  unwrinkled,  h\^  eyes  are  clear,  soft  gray,  and 
his  mouth  and  dimpled  chin  expressive  of  great  sweetness 
and  gentlenef^s.     Honeyed  rhymes,  yoTi  could  well  believe, 
would  drop  naturally  from  those  lips.     With  him  I  found 
his  wife,  a  daughter  of  J3asU  Montague,  and  their  three 
daughters,  of  whom  Adelaide,  the  eldest,  has  since  proved 
her  claim  to  inherit  her  father's  mantle  by  a  volume  of 


444 


AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 


|i  -  -  ! 


I.   2 

T  I 


,  :  1 


lyrics.    To  them  entered  (as  the  play-books  say)  Robert 
Browning,  and  the  breakfast  party  was  complete. 

I  had  met  both  Browning  and  his  wife  five  years  before, 
in  the  company  of  John  Kenyon  ( "  Kenyon  the  Magni- 
ficent," Browning  called  him),  when  they  first  returned  to 
England  after  four  years  in  Italy.  The  hearty,  genial, 
impulsive,  un-English  character  of  the  poet  (much  like  what 
we  fancy  Shelley  to  have  been)  made  a  strong  impression 
upon  me.  He  overruns  with  a  boyish  life  and  vivacity, 
darting  out  continual  flashes  of  wit  and  imagination,  like 
the  pranks  of  heat  lightning  in  a  summer  cloud ;  Avhile  his 
wife,  with  her  thin,  pale  fiice,  half  hidden  by  heavy  brown 
ringlets,  shines  between,  with  the  mildness  and  adiness 
of  moonlight.  They  form  almcot  the  only  instance  I  know 
of  poets  happily  mated — both  great,  yet  each  respecting 
the  other's  individuality,  each  proud  of  the  other's  fame. 

On  this  occasion  Browning  was  in  a  very  lively  mood. 
He  entertained  us  at  breakfast  with   quotations  from  a 
dream  the  previous  night,   in   which  he  had   rewritten 
P.'obcird  the  Third.     The  tent-scene,  in  particular,  was  one 
of  the  maddest  mixtures  of  Shaksperean  poetry  and  modern 
slang  that  could  be  imagined.     Mrs.  Proctor  is  a  brilliant 
talker,  and  Barry  Cornwall,  though  exceedingly  quiet  and 
unobtrusive  in  his  manner,  now  and  then  dropped  a  remark, 
the  quaint  humor  of  which  reminded  me  of  Charles  Lamb. 
After  breakfast  I  spent  a  delightful  hour  in  his  library. 
From  a  drawer  under  his  writing-desk  he  produced  two  or 
three  small  books,  bound  in  leather,  which  contained  the 
original  drafts  of  most  of  his   songs.    Among  others  he 
showed  me  "  The  Sea,"  "  The  Stormy  Petrel,"  and  "  Touch 


v>«;< 


SOMK   EXOLI8H   CKLEnRITIES. 


445 


us  cently,  Time."  I  wa.  n  .erested  to  hear  that  many  of  his 
finest  lyrics  and  son  ^  ^ ,  e  composed  mental'v  -  hUe  riding 
daily  to  t'-^  City  L'.ui   >    nibus. 


I  had  so  long  known  the  greatest  of  Uving  English  poets 
-Alfred  Tennyson-not  only  through  his  works  but  from 
the  talk   of  mutual  friends,   that  I  gladly  embraced  an 
opportunity  to  know  Mm  personally,  which  happened  to  me 
in  June,  1857.     He  was  then  living  at  his  home-the  estate 
of  Farrmgford,  near  Freshwater,  on  the  Isle  of  Wic^ht 
I  should  have  hesitated  to  intrude  upon  his  retirement,  had 
I  not  been  kindly  assured  beforehand  that  my  visit  would 
not  be  unwelcome.     The  drive  across  the  heart  of  the 
island,  from  Newport  to  Freshwater,  was  alone  worth  the 
journey  from  London.    The  softly  undulating  hills,  the 
deep  green  valleys,  the  blue  waters  of  the  Solent,  and  the 
purple  glimpses  of  the  New  Forest  beyond,  formed  a  fit 
vestibule  of  landscape  through  which  to  approach  a  poet's 
home. 

As  we  drew  near  Freshwater,  my  coachman  pointed  out 
Farnngford-a  chcerfnl  gray  country  mansion,  with  a  small 
tluck-grassed  park  before  it,  a  grove  behind,  and  beyond 
all,  die  steep  shoulder  of  the  chalk  downs,  a  gap  in  which 
at  Freshwater,  showed  the  dark-blue  horizon  of  the  Channel.' 
Leaving  my  luggage  at  one  of  the  two  little  inns,  I  walked 
to  the  house,  with  lines  from  Maud  chiming  in  my  mmd 
The  "dry-tongued  laurel"  shone  glossily  in  the  sun-  the 
cedar  "sighed  for  Lebanon"  on  the  lawn,  and  the  "liquid 


446 


AT   HOAtE   AND   ABROAD. 


azTire  bloom  of  a  crescent  of  sea-'  -'immered  afar.  I  had 
not  been  two  minutes  in  the  drav^  ng-voom  befbre  Tennyson 
M-alked  in.  So  unlike  a-e  the  published  port  aits  of  him 
that  I  was  almost  in  doubt  as  to  his  identity.  Ihe  engraved 
head  suggests  a  moderate  stature,  but  he  is  tall  and  broad- 
shouldered  as  a  son  of  Anak,  with  hair,  beard,  and  eyes,  of 
southern  darkness.  Something  in  the  lofty  brow  and  aqui- 
line no-e  suggests  Dante,  but  such  a  deep,  mellow  chest- 
voice never  could  have  come  from  Italian  luno-s. 

He  proposed  a  walk,  as  the  day  was  wonderfully  clear 
and  beautiful.  We  climbed  the  steep  comb  of  the  chalk 
cliff,  and  slowly  wandered  westward  until  we  reached  the 
Needles,  ut  the  extremity  of  the  island,  and  some  three  or 
four  miles  distant  from  his  residence.  During  the  conver- 
sation with  which  we  beguiled  the  way,  I  was  struck  with 
the  variety  of  his  knowledge  Not  a  little  flower  on  the 
downs,  which  the  sheen  had  spared,  escaped  his  notice,  and 
the  geology  of  the  coast,  both  terrestrial  and  submarine, 
was  perfectly  familiar  to  him.  I  thought  of  a  remark 
Avhieh  I  had  once  heard  from  the  \\)s  of  a  distinguished 
English  author,  that  Tennyson  was  the  wisest  man  he  ever 
knew,  and  could  well  believe  that  he  was  ,jin'>ere  in 
making  it. 

I  shall  respect  the  sanctity  of  the  delightful  family  circle, 
to  rt  hich  I  was  admitted,  and  from  which  I  parted,  the 
next  afternoon,  with  true  regret.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that 
the  poet  is  not  only  fortunate  and  happy  in  his  family 
relations,  but  ihat,  with  his  large  and  liberal  nature,  his 
sympathies  for  what  is  true  anc""  noble  in  humanity,  and  liis 
depth  and  tenderness  of  feeling,  he  deserves  to  be  so. 


XXXVI. 

SCENES  AT  A   TARGET-SHOOTING. 

[AUGUST,    IS-JS.] 


Jt 


Next  to  the  Kirmse,  or  autumnal  festival  of  the  German 
peasants    which   I   have   described   elsewhere,  comes  the 
annua    shooting-match.     This  is  called  the  Vogel^chiessen. 
or  bu-d-shooting,  because  the  target  is  always  the  crooned, 
aouole-headed  eagle  of  the  German  En.pire.     The  festival, 
which  usually  lasts  a  week,  is  commonly  held  in  Au^^ust     In 
the  Saxon  principalities  of  Middle  Germany  it  \L  almost 
an  othcial  and  national  character,  the  rulers,  ministers,  and 
nokhty  participating  in  it  as  well  as  the  burghers  and 
peasantry.     In  the  court  towns,  where  it  lasts  an  entire 
week.  It  IS  accompanied  by  circuses  and  shows  of  every 
k.nd,  and  therefore  furnishes  an  excellent  picture  of  the 
popular  amusements  of  the  country. 

At  Gotha  there  is  a  special  target-ground,  kept  for  the 
occasion,  on  the  Hat  summit  of  a  hill  which  touches  the 


I 


m 


148 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


town  on  the  northwestern  side.  Here  there  is  a  spacious 
dancing-hall,  and  a  large  shooting-house,  the  front  part  of 
which  is  fitted  up  as  a  restaurant,  while  the  rear  contains  a 
gallery  with  open  boxes  for  the  marksmen.  Back  of  this 
extends  an  alley,  about  eighty  yards  in  length,  at  the 
extremity  of  which  is  planted  a  ma.it,  fifty  feet  high, 
bearing  the  double-headed  eagle  upon  its  top.  The  bird 
is  cut  out  of  a  thin  plank  of  tough  wood,  and  neasures 
four  or  five  feet  from  tip  to  tip.  The  various  parts  of  the 
figure  have  different  values,  according  to  which  the  merits 
of  the  marksmen  are  determined.  Thus,  he  who  shoots 
away  a  crown  takes  the  first  prize;  the  shield  on  the 
breast  ranks  next,  and  the  feet  and  wings  last.  A  Ken- 
tucky  rifleman  would  be  far  from  considering  this  a  just 
standard.  The  shooting  is  governed  by  a  long  list  of 
rules  and  regulations,  any  violation  of  which  expels  the 
competitor. 

I  did  not  attend  the  festival  until  the  second  day,  when 
all  the  shows  were  in  full  operation,  and  the  crowd  of 
visitors  greatest.  The  large  open  space  in  front  of  the 
dancing-hall  was  covered  with  regular  streets  of  booths,  as 
at  a  fair,  and  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  force  a  way  tlirough 
the  crowd  of  citizens  and  peasants  in  holiday  dress,  who 
had  flocked  in  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  far  and  near. 
On  the  right  stood  the  tent  of  a  circus  company ;  on  the 
left  a  carrousel,  or  race-course  of  hobby  horses.  Then 
followed  exhibitions  of  strange  animals,  human  monstrosi- 
ties, panoramic  views,  and  ^narionettes,  with  a  pleasant 
alternation  of  beer-booths,  shops  for  the  sale  of  poppy-seed 
and  onioii  cakes,  roasted  sausages,  pretzels,  punch,  and  ices. 


eCETO  AT  A   TAEQET-SHOOraa.  449 

Beyond  ,i     danci„g.lall  ro.e  a  crescent-shaped  terrace. 

able,  and  benches,  a.  which  hundreds  were  e„j„,i„g  their 
coffee  and  ,ce,,  while  a  band  played  waltzes  a  J  over- 
.res  from  the  balcony  of  the  shoo.ing.house.    Scattered 
about  throagh  the  crowd,  each  surrounded  by  a  ring  of 
admrnng  children  and  amused  peasants,  were  ballad-sinlrs 
dancing  „„„kcj.,,  fortune-tellers,  and  venders  of '-Tr^ic 
Oeeurrencos...    The  combination  of  gay  color,,  odd  L 
tumes  and  p,eturesque  forms,  surging  through  broad  belts 
of  hght  and  shade,  in  a  sea  of  noisy  merriment,  made  a 
picture  that  would  have  delighted  Wilkie  or  Ostade 

In  tSe  shooting.house,  there  was  not  much  going  „„. 
There  were  bu,  few  competitors  present,  and  they  fired 
^■1  h  a  lazy,  nonchalant  air,  discussing  gunnery  and  beer 
be  ween  .he  shots.    The  bird  was  pretty  well  riddled,  but 
had  lost  neither  crown  nor  shield,  ulthongh  the  feet  and  a 
par.  of  one  wing  were  gone.     On  the  following  afternoon, 
however,  the  crown  was  shot  away  by  the  president  of  a 
.arget  soc.ety  from  one  cf  the  neighboring  towns.    The 
lucky  marksman  not  only  received  the  fi,-st  prize  of  a  silver 
cup,  but  was  immediately  saluted  as  King  of  the  Festival 
adorned  w.th  the  ancient  golden  collar  always  used  on  the 
occasion,  and  led     ,.     -iumphant  procession   around  the 
grounds.     He  was  a  stout,  phlegmatic  man  of  middle  a-e 
-d  blushed  UP  to  the  roots  of  his  blond  hair,  as  he  passtd' 
brough  the  si.  „ei„g  crowd,  followed  by  the  other  eompc 
Wors,  walking  .wo  and  two.    The  distinction  brings  with 
..also  the  obUgations  of  making  a  speech,  and  of  presiding 
at  the  banquet  which  followed,  so  that  the  embarrassment 


<-^ 


450 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


is  fully  equal  to  the  honor.    Two  years  before,  the  Duke 
himself  bore  away  the  first  prize. 

The  ball  iu  the  evening  was  made  select  by  a  charge  of 
one  thaler  (71  cents)  for  admission,  and  the  prescription  of 
a  black  dress,  with  white  kid  glo\es.  Therefore  it  was  like 
n.iy  starched  and  respectable  ball  anywhere  else  in  the 
world,  and  I  had  no  curiosity  to  witness  it.  All  such  rigid 
recreation  is  an  inevitable  bore,  except  to  very  pretty 
young  ladies,  whose  means  allow  them  to  dress  handsomely, 
and  to  shallow-headed  young  gentlemen,  expert  at  the 
polka  and  in  the  parting  of  their  back-hair.  A  military 
drill,  or  a  dance  of  naked  savages  by  torchlight,  is  a  much 
more  diverting  spectacle.  If  my  reader  prefers,  with  me, 
the  grotesque,  the  curious,  and  the  comic,  to  the  stupid  and 
the  proper,  we  Avill  leave  the  genteel  society  to  simper  and 
dance  in  the  banquet-hall,  and  accompany  the  peasants  to 
their  penny-shows. 

As  we  pass  around  the  corner  of  the  building,  we  are 
attracted  by  a  series  of  remarkable  paintings  hung  against 
the  wall.  Thoy  are  illustrations  of  terrible  murders  antl 
robberies,  the  full  narratives  of  which  you  may  buy  for  a 
cent  apiece.  Let  us  look  at  the  titles,  which  sufficiently 
illustrate  the  character  of  these  fictions — for  fictitious  they 
assuredly  are.  Here  is  a  "Terrific  and  Fearful  Occurrence, 
which  took  place  at  Cologne  in  the  year  1856,  and  the  Cul- 
prit was  Executed  on  the  6th  of  August,  1857."  Lest, 
however,  you  should  sup  exclusively  on  horrors,  here  is  a 
more  cheerful,  though  still  fascinating  title:  "The  Miracu- 
lous Rescue  of  a  Child,  and  Description  of  a  Terrible  Band 
of  Robbers  in   the   Mountains  oi   Naples,"  followed  by 


I 


SCENES  AT  A  TAKOET-SLOOrao.  «, 

"Ma,ia  Carlo.„„,  „,o  Frond,  Princes^  .p„„,,  „f  ,;,  jjus. 

IvHIod  m  Battle  and  Promoted  ,o  tl,e  rank  o^  Cantair 
-;..Hn«  Who  her  Parent,  Were."    T„e  st,>e  „/        ^ 

..on.  Oh,  what  a  horrid  deed!"  " Ala,,  alas !  how  ter. 
nble!"  and  to  the  end  of  eaeh  narrative  i.  attached  a 
poe,n,  desenbing  the  tragedy  and  embodying  its  moral 

::r •;  '^"  '"^  ™*^  -"o  '.as  .nade  himself  J^! 
>.th  the  et.eumstancc.,  may  adapt  the  verse.  ,„  some 
avonte  ,n.!.dy,  and  sing  them  for  the  edification  of  hi. 

The  Censorship  of  the  Press,  which  at  one  time  was  very 
.■.g.d  m  Germany,  never  prohibited  these  blood-streamin^ 
l;ubhcat,o„s,  the  Government,  no  doubt,  recognising  t.^ 
fnc   that  men  would  much  sooner  give  up  the  discussion  of 
.-.hstraet  pr.ne.ples  of  Uight  and  Wrong,  than  the  privilege 
of  <eastn,g  their  curiositj  on  the  records  of  crime     This 
.losu-c  seems  to  be  a  normal  trait  of  human  nature.    Amon.r 
our  weaknesses  is  a  craving  for  ,he  sen.,atio„  of  horror 
■vmle  our  selHove  is  flattered  by  the  comparison  which  wj 
"atur.ally  mstitute   between    the  criminal  ^nd  ourselves 
Conscenee,  which  at  best  has  a  long  account  scored  ac-ainst 
"s,  suggests  that  there  arc  still  worse  ,nen  than  we  :re  in 
.ho  world:  our  own  vices  diminish  in  in,,,ort.ance  as  we 
compare  them  with  ,,„me  colossal  erhue.     Kobodv  wonW 
ake  a  newspaper,  if  it  did  not  contain  the  poUce  'reports 
We  cannot,  therefore,  wonder  at  the  uncultivated  taste 


'wItc 


452 


AT  HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


which  creates  a  demand  for  such  disgusting  trash — for,  if 
the  style  were  classic  aid  the  story  well  toid,  we  should 
purchase  a  copy  ourselves.  The  yellow-covered  literature 
of  the  United  States  is  one  step  abc^ve  these  rough  penny 
pamphlets,  because  the  mental  calibre  of  the  class  who  read 
them  is  somewhat  greater  than  that  of  the  same  class  in 
Germany.  After  much  observation  and  reflection,  I  am 
iuolined  to  doubt  whether  any  serious  harm  can  be  ascribed 
to  such  productions.  The  mere  habit  of  reading  impercep- 
tibly improves  the  taste  of  the  reader,  and  a  man  who 
can  swalloAV  the  blood-and-th  under  of  George  Lippard 
to-day,  will  relish  Dickens  ten  years  hence. 

Leaving  the  literary  department  behind  us,  we  pass  on 
to  the  booths.  Presently  we  are  attracted  by  a  flaming 
sign :  "  Here  is  to  be  seen  the  wild  African  Man  of  the 
Forests,  the  Only  Specimen  in  Existence."  The  entrance 
fee  amounts  to  ten  cents,  and  the  unusual  expense  makes 
us  hesitate ;  but  we  have  five  eager  boys  in  our  charge, 
and  their  longing  glances  soon  decide  us.  Entering  a  tent, 
eVery  avenue  into  which  is  carcSfully  screened  from  the 
multitude,  Me  behold  a  small  black  chimpanzee,  seated 
upon  a  table,  while  his  proprietor  is  thus  expatiating  to  a 
small  but  select  audience:  "A  most  extraordinary  animal, 
your  lordships  t  I  bought  him  from  the  captain  of  a  vessel, 
direct  from  Africa.  The  Enjjlish  crovernmcnt  offered  £200 
for  him  afterwards.  You  see,  he  is  exactly  like  a  human 
being ;  the  only  difference  in  fact  is  his  language.  These 
animals  live  in  the  unknown  regions  in  the  centre  of  Africa. 
They  build  themselves  houses  and  live  in  villages,  just  like 
men.    The  negro  tribes  catch  and  make  slaves  of  them, 


SCESES  AT  A  TAEGBT-SBOOiraO. 


453 

employing  them  to  .„,tivate  their  rice-field,.    It  i,  „ece,. 

•left  alone.    Thoj-  cannot  live  i„  Europe,  on  account  of 

he  seventy  of  the  climate,  but  a,  this  „L  i,       ""unf 

I  have  eucceeded,  with  ffrM,  ^iffi    ,.     ■        ""'r  >'""'«, 

iife.,,  '        ^  ^"'"'  '•'fficu'ty,  in  preserving  his 

It  was  a  poor  old  beast,  less  than  three  fee.  high,  and 

nappy  look,  peeling  ard  suckincr  an  ^ 

"  I'ou  are  .is.aten:.-  said  TuZ  TJ^XT"""'- 

that  this  animal  comes  from  Africa.-    'p.^^'^'^-f 

:;^^e, -this  is  the  genuine  African  man^te:::; 

B«    I    have   travelled    in   the   interior  of  Africa"  I 

answered;  "  you  only  find  this  variety  in  Java  and  sJma, 

animal.  The  ne.,t  day,  when  I  came  again  with  a  frc* 
compan,  of  children,  he  was  in  the  middle  of  his  ace. 

^m«,  spcb;h„t  seeing  me,  stopped  very  atrut 
whJe  he  threw  towards  me  a  helpless,  imploring  gUnce  L 
-ch  as  to  say,  "Please  don't  stay  long-your  pLe„:  " 
very  embarrassing." 

Near  this  tent  stood  another,  with  the  sign-"  The 
Great  Sea-Lion  of  the  Polar  Regions."  The  price  of 
admission  was  three  cents,  and  the  animal,  as  I  supposed 
was  an  ordinary  seal,  named  "Jacob."  which  looked  at  ui 
appealm^y  „„t  of  its  beautiful  human  eyes.  It  was  not  a 
very  profitable  monster,  requiring  a  tank  of  water,  and 
'elusmg  to  appear  when  caUed  for.  The  Giant  and  the 
Dwarf,  who  had  a  booth  in  common,  did  a  much  better 


ir^ 


m. m- ' 


454 


AT  HOMB   AND   ABROAD. 


business.  The  former  was  stupid,  as  all  giants  are,  and  the 
latter  malicious,  as  are  most  dwarfs.  It  was  pleasant, 
hpwever,  to  see  the  latter  standing  with  bcth  feet  in  the 
empty  shoe  of  the  former. 

The  fortune  tellers  were  not  very  well  patronized,  pro- 
bably because  the  printed  oracular  slips,  which  they  fur- 
nished for  two  cents,  were  already  familiar  to  most  of  the 
crowd.    To  me,  however,  they  were  new.     By  two  judi- 
cious investments  I  ascertained  not  only  my  own  character, 
but  that  of  my  destined  Avife.     I  learned,  to  my  surprise, 
that  I  had  a  secret  enemy,  who  was  working  hard  for  my 
ruin,  but  was  cheered  to  find  that  I  should  in  the  end  tri- 
umph over  him.     1  hud  also  many  friends,  but  I  must  not 
trust  everybody:     I  should  have  bad  luck  a  while,  then 
good,  then  bad  again,  and  in  the  end  all  would  be  fortu- 
nate.   The  latter  part  of  my  life — which,  if  it  did  not  ter- 
minate sooner,  would  extend  to  a  great  age — would  be 
illuminated  by  all  kinds  of  gorgeous  pyrotechnics.    Having 
learned  thus  much,  I  must  needs  behold  the  face  of  the 
partner  of  nty  destiny.     The  oracle  looked  at  me — noticed 
probably  that  hair  ord  eyes  were  dark — turned  a  wheel, 
and  directed  me  to  place  my  eye  to  a  large  lens  in  the  sido 
of  a  box.     I  beheld  a  blue-eyed  and  blond-haired  lady, 
properly  flounced  and  crinolined,  with  a  bonnet  like  an 
oyster-shell  behind  her  ears.     She  resembled  one  of  the 
fashion-figures  in  Godey's  Lady's  Book,  and  of  course  I  was 
happy.     My  companion,  whose  complexion  was  very  light, 
was  introduced  to  a  lady  with  dark  eyes  and  hair. 

The  sound  of  a  shrill  voice   singing,  "  Oh,  but  1  am 
weary ;  oh,  but  I  am  fatigued  !"  attracted  our  attention. 


« 


^N 


SCENES  AT  A  TAEQET-SHOOXmo.  455 

A  large  raw-boned  woman,  accompanied  by  her  son,  were 
the  mmstrels.     They  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of  pea. 
sants.  some  of  whom  had  purchased  slips  containing  the 
words  of  the  song,  and  were  attentively  following  the  me- 
lody m  order  to  catch  and  sing  it  themselves  afterM.rds. 
Th  s  ,s  their  usual  method  of  learning  new  songs  and  ballads, 
and  where  these  are  of  a  popular  character,  the  wandering 
musie-teachers  are  rewarded  with  a  good  stock  of  ^W  J 
Here,  however,  the  difference  in  taste  between  the  uncul- 
tivated classes  of  Germany  and  America  is  much  to  the 
credit  of  the  former.     Their  songs  were,  for  the  most  part, 
o    a  more  refined  and  sentimental  order  than  those  .'ieh 
adorn  the  Park  railing  in  New  York.    The  fun  is  never  .o 
coarse  as  in  "Bobbing  Around"  or  "  VUlikins  and  his 
Dma    "  nor  the  sentiment  quite  so  silly  as  in  "Marble 
Halls^.  and  "  Barbara  Allen."    Here  is  one  which,  from  the 
crowd  of  lusty  young  peasants  who  followed  the  raw-boned 
mmstrel,  to  catch  the  air,  must  have  been  a  great  favorite: 

Thou  hast  diamonds,  and  pearls,  and  jewels, 

Hast  all  the  heart  wishes,  in  store ; 
And  ah,  thou  hast  eyes  so  lovely— 

My  darling,  what  wouldst  thou  have  more  ? 
And  upon  thine  eyes  so  lovely, 

That  pierce  my  heart  to  its  core, 
Uncounted  songs  have  I  written— 

My  darling,  what  wouldst  thou  have  more? 
Alas,  with  thine  eyes  so  lovely, 

Thou  hast  tortured  and  wounded  me  sore; 
Thine  eyes  have  compassed  my  ruin— 
My  darling,  what  wouldst  thoii  have  more? 


t 


t- 


450 


AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAO. 


And,  because  of  thino  eyes  sj  tender, 

Have  I  ventured  more  and  more, 
And  80  much,  ah,  so  much  have  I  suffered — 

Mj  darling,  what  wouldst  thou  have  more? 

There  are  also  booths  containing  panoramic  and  stereo- 
scopic views,  which  I  noticed  were  visited  by  great  numbers 
of  the  poorer  people.  The  marionette  theatres  and  the 
perambulating  Punch-and-Judy  shows  were  remarkably 
popular,  and  the  swings  and  flying  horses  never  ceased  their 
rounds.  Bauer  from  the  northern  country,  with  their  short- 
waisted  coats,  long  jackets,  and  knee-breeches,  crowded 
around  the  stalls  where  onion-cakes,  hissing  hot  from  the 
pan,  were  displayed  on  the  greasy  board,  and  then  moved 
oflf  beerward,  to  give  room  to  the  women,  in  their  high 
fantastic  caps,  glittering  with  golden  pins  and  brooches, 
and  with  manifold  streamers  of  silk  dangling  from  the 
summit.  In  envious  contrast  to  these  were  the  maidens 
from  some  western  villages,  with  hair  combed  d  la  Chi7ioise 
to  the  top  of  the  head,  where  it  was  covered  by  a  small, 
0Hi>shaped  piece  of  embroidered  cloth.  The  petticoats  of 
these  damsels  reached  barely  to  the  knee,  but  they  made  up 
in  diameter  what  they  lacked  in  length.  They  were  hardy, 
healthy  creatures,  with  arms  like  a  butcher's,  calves  like  a 
mountaineer's,  nut-brown  cheeks,  and  teeth  which  could 
bite  off  a  tenpenny  nail. 

At  night,  when  the  laborers  took  their  holiday,  the  mul- 
titude presented  a  still  more  picturesque  appearance,  in  the 
flaring  light  of  lamps  and  torches.  Then  the  music  was 
redoubled  ;  the  great  hall  shook  under  the  measured  stroke 
of  the  dancers'  feet,  and  little  circles  of  waltzers  were 


SOOHB   AT  A   TAKGBT-SUOOTINO.  457 

-puad  f,.„m  mouth  .„  „,„,.„,  ,„„  ^ 

wl,  e  the  ceklo  of  go.ip  ,„„  „,„„„„  ,„  „,  J^  ^^^ ^ 
Unt.1  „„  „.e,„ek,  it  w.  a  pio.u.  of  the  ,„„r.«.,  ,o^ 

.>v,y  dnftod  ba.k  to  .o,v„.    The   Vo,c,scMe.en  i,  .h^ 

vcek  of  hohda,-,  and  ton  thale,-,  i„  hi.,  pocket.  When  the 
f«,val  „  over  hi,  thaler,  are  gone  and  hia  .tomach  i, 
deranged ;  but  he  ha.,  had  a  jolly  g„od  ,im„  „f  (,,  ,„a  ,,,, 
sour  season  of  labor  i,  aweetenod  by  the  recollection  ol'  the 
.ghts  he  ha,  seen,  the  beer  he  h.a,  drunk,  the  music  he  has 
I.e.ard.the  da,K=e,  he  ha,  danced,  and  (why  not?)  the  kiases 
ho  ha,  stolen  from  hia  sweetheart. 


20 


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JA   11.6 


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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STReET 

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(716)  872-4503 


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XXXVIT. 

ASPECTS  OF  GERJVIAN  SOCIETY. 


From  a  cursory  view,  there  would  appear  to  be  little  diffu-- 
ence  m  the  outward  form  and  mould  of  Society,  in  all 
civilized  countries,  at  the  present  time.  So  great  ia  the 
amount  of  intercourse  between  the  different  nationalities 
that  a  uniform  set  of  conventional  observances  now  passes 
current  everywhere.  The  same  ordinary  forms  of  courtesy 
flourish  in  the  latitude  of  New  York  and  St.  Petersburg. 
Stockholm  and  Madrid.  *' 

It  is,  therefore,  only  in  the  more  intimate  circles  of  private 
and  domestic  life,  that  we  still  find  the  peculiar  traits  exist- 
ing, which  distinguish  one  people  from  another-traits  which 
will  no  doubt  be  gradually  effaced  under  that  tremendous 
levelling  system,  which  has  already  swept  away  the  distinc- 
tions of  costume  and  of  address.  These  characceristic 
aspects  of  Society  are  most  interesting  among  the  German 
and  .'candmavian  races,  on  account  of  their  marked  domes- 


—  ■  —    -■  biii_J9a 


iSPECIS   OP  OEBMAK  80CI1TT.  459 

ticity  and  the  affectionate  pertinacity  .ith  which  they  clio. 

^o^. to^s  and  obse„anee,.hich  have  been  ha,Jea; 
!•    ,""  ''>"g»age,  possess  the  word  "Home"    » 
word  unknown  to  the  Frenchman  and  -he  Italian  ~" 

Perhaps  the  first  pecnliarity  which  strikes  the  traveHer  on 
entenng  Germany_a„d  which,  unless  he  be  a  fool,  in,p^^^Les 
h.m  most  agreeably_is  the  frank  and  nnrestrainei  da  act 
of  pnbhc  .nterconrse.    It  would  be  impossible  to  iZZl 

eI,  t  u         "«  '*""">'  ''•»"  acquainted.    The 

Enghshman,  when  abroad,  avoids  his  kind,  unless  indeVd 
he  be  a  no  leman  of  good  sense,  who  runs  no  rS'oT  com 
p™m,smg  h,s  social  pos.ti„n ;  the  German  seeks  his  cltrT 
-n,  by  natural  affinity.  In  this  respect,  the  Ameri"  U 
a  cross  between  the  two.  Yet  it  is  ^  .are  a  thing  to  It 
a  new  ac,ua,ntance  m  a  railroad  car,  here,  as  it  is  clmon 
■"  7^  f  "■■=  f-"-  States.    Then  the  new  arrival  ZZ 

ouslysaIutesthe„therp.nssengersonen,ering;  thedepTrt    : 
.avellcr  does  the  same  thing.    Time  is  consider!  C  if 
devoted  to  silence,  when  it  might  be  agreeably  spent  .^ 
:rT°"'  ""'  »"  ""»  have  purchased  tickets       th 
.ame  class  cons.der  each  other  as  equals  for  the  time  be,  ' 
Almost  the  only  examples  of  reserve  which  you  meet  ^S 
are  the  mU..ary  gentlemen,  whose  assumedipor     cT  s 
the  more  insufferable  becanao  I, ;.  „    ,    l^"™""^  " 

UDon  wealth    1,  generally  based  neither 

upon  wealth,  ch.iracter,  nor  intellect 

This  pleasant  tr.,it  is  not  confined  to  the  masculiue  se. 

I.ad,e,  also,  enter  into  conversation  with  a  cheerfulness  and 
cor  .at,  ^,,,  „,„,,^.,.^,  ^„^^  ^^^^^  ^^^^  ^^^  J  a^ 

.nherent  courtesy.    I  travelled  two  days  i„  a  diligence  in 


460 


AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 


company  with  an  Austrian  Baroness  and  her  daurht'^rs 
and  on  parting  received  a  most  friendly  invitation  t^o  visit 
the  family.     On  another  occasion,  I  met  with  a  very  intelli- 
gent lady  in  the  depot  at  Munich,  and  on  reaching  Augs- 
'"••g,  where  she  resided,  was  introduced  by  her  to  her 
.usl>and-a  physician  of  repute-and  cordially  invited  by 
both  to  spend  a  day  with  them.     In  these  cases,  the  ladies 
knew  nothing  about  me  except  what  they  had  learned 
during  our  brief  intercourse.    Even  in  England,  I  think 
Hiich  a  thing  would  sooner  be  possible  than  with  us 

Gallantry  towards  ladies  is  a  fine  manly  characteristic, 
and  we  Americans  have  none  too  much  of  it.    But  have  we 
not  a  tight  to  ask  of  our  ladies  courtesy  towards  'gentlemen  ? 
There  is  no  man  worthy  of  the  name  but  would  feel  that 
there  was  a  delicate  flattery  in  the  fact  of  a  lady  address 
".g  herself  to  him   for  information,  during  a  journey  in 
which  they  were  chanco  neighbors;  and  there  is  no  man 
but  would  be  conscious  of  a  sense  of  insult  if  his  respectful 
attempt  to  while  away  the  tedium  of  travel  by  conversation 
were  repulsed.     It  is  the  risk  of  such  repulse,  not  only 
between  travellers  of  different  sexes,  but  even  those  of  the 
same  sex,  which  makes  our  raUroad  society  so  grim  and 
depressing.     When  a  lady  has  not  sufficient  consideration 
to  thank  you  for  a  seat,  you  may  be  sure  she  has  no  desire 
to  converse  with  you.     If  she  happens  to  know  who  you 
are,  and  is  sure  of  your  respectability,  you  may  be  success- 
ful;  otherwise,  there  is  something  in  her  mannner,  which 
says:  "Bless  me  I    what  does  he  mean !    an  entire  stran<.er 
-I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing!  what  would  people  say  ^» 
Here,  again,  is  another  difference.    When  strangers  meet 


ASPECTS   OF   GERMAN  SOCIErr.  4^1 

enjoying  the  hospitality  of  a  mutual  acquaintance,  there 
IS   a  tacit  social  recognition,   which   dispenses  with  the 
formality  of  an  introduction.    Any  hesitation  is  justly  con 
.sidered  as  an  offence  against  the  host,  implying  thrt  he 
would  ask  persons  to  meet  you  whom  it  was  not  proper 
that  you  should  know.    The  same  custom  prevails  in  Eng- 
land, and  is  there  carried  to  such  an  extent  that  you  are 
frequently  embanassed  by  receiving  invitations  from  per- 
sons  whom  you  may  know  by  sight,  but  not  by  name.     But 
the  absence  of  all  reserve  in  such  cases-the  frank  freedom 
of  social  intercourse-is  a  mark  of  true  refinement.     All 
politeness  which  is  not  founded  on  common  sense  has  but 
iictitious  value. 

There  is,  however,  one  element  of  courtesy  in  which  the 
Germans  are  deficient.     Being  a  people  of  abstract  idea., 
and  much  given  to  that  species  of  theonzing  which  breed, 
intellectual  egotism,  they  lack  a  proper  consideration  for 
the  Ideas  and  opinions  of  others.    Hence,  a  mixed  conver- 
sation very  often  assumes  the  character  of  an  argumentative 
combat.    I  have  frequently  heard    facts  denied,  because 
they  conflicted  with  some  pet  theory.    As  an  American 
and  a  republican,  I  was  constantly  liable  to  be  assailed  by 
those  who  advocated  the  monarchical  system-not  in  the 
way  of  courteous   inquiry,   but  direct  attack.    In  Art, 
Literature,  and  Science,  it  is  the  same  thmg.     The  Ger- 
mans have  adopted  the  idea  that  the  great  characteristic 
of  the  American    people    is    Jfaferea/.-^m-because  this 
forms  a  convenient  antithesis  to  the  Germ.in  trait  of  Ideal- 
ism-and  all  the  facts  one  may  adduce  to  prove  its  falsity 
go  for  nothing.     So  with  their  ideas  concerning  European 


m 


i 


462 


AT  HOME  AND  aBROAD. 


politics.  They  are  based  upon  abstract  doctrines-theories 
of  race,  of  "national  elements  "—which  every  year  sees 
scattered  to  the  winds,  but,  nevertheless,  they  put  the 
fragments  together  .again,  and  look  upon  the  structure 
with  the  same  unshaken  complacency  as  before.  This 
intellectual  egotism  is  at  first  offensive  to  a  stranger,  and 
one  never  becomes  entirely  reconciled  to  it.  The  same 
characteristic  may  be  observed  among  the  various  classes 
of  ultra-reformers  in  the  United  States. 

The  Teutonic  heart   cannot  beat   without   expression. 
The  emotions  are  never  subjected  to  that  self-restraint 
which  our  Anglo-Saxon  pride  forces  upon  us.    Tears  are 
shed,,  and  lips  kissed,  and  sacred  words  spoken,  if  not  in 
public,  at  least  not  in  secret.     No  man  is  ashamed  to  let 
the  world  see  that  he  loves  or  grieves.     We  shrink  from 
such  an  exhibition  because  the  sanctity  of  passion  is  pro- 
faned by  the  presence  of  curious  eyes  and  unfeeling  hearts, 
but  among  a  people  whose  sympathies  are  sensitive  there  is 
no  restraint.    Even  in   the   advertising  columns   of  the 
newspapers,  side  by  side  with  announcements  of  groceries 
and  dry  goods,  you  may  read  the  wo:    i  of  hope,  and  joy, 
and  lamentation.     Let  me  give  a  few  illustrations.     The 
first  act   in   the   universal   drama  of  human  life  is  thus 
exhibited : 

"Our  betrothal,  which  took  place  yesterday,  we  hereby  joyfully  make 
known  to  all  relatives  and  friends. 

"  Karl  Schumann, 
"Anna  Stiefel." 


A   year   afterwards,    \f  the   course   of  true   1 


ove    runs 


ASPECTS  OP  GEKKAN  SOCTETY.  463 

emooth-which,  I  must  admit,  it  seems  to  do  mcie  fre- 
quently than  among  us-you  may  read  the  following: 

"Our  conjugal  union,  which  was  yesterday  consummated,  we  he-eby 
announce  to  all  relatives  and  friend\ 

"  Karl  Schumann, 
"  Anna  Schumann, 

weeStiefeL" 

During  the  three  or  four  following  days,  the  emotional 
column  of  advertisements  is  filled  with  congratulations,  a 
few  only  of  which  need  be  given.  There  is  usually  a  grent 
similarity  of  style,  although  sometimes  congratulatory 
poems  appear.    Here  are  two  specimens: 

"We  hereby  offer  our  heartiest  good  wishes  to  our  relative  Kail 
Schumann,  on  the  occasion  of  his  recent  marriage.  May  he  and  his 
beloved  wife  Uve  long  and  happily  together  I 

"  The  Glanzlbder  Family." 

"The  marriage  of  our  friends,  Karl  Schumann  and  Anna  Stiefel  on 
Wednesday,  was  joyfully  celebrated  here  the  same  evening  when  'our 
glasses  were  emptied  to  the  prosperity  of  the  dear  couple.  All  united  in 
a  loud  and  glad  hurrah  I  (hoch  /)" 

In  another  year  (be  the  same  more  or  less),  the  second 
act  IS  chronicled  in  like  manner.  What  would  those  ex- 
quisitely  prudish  persons,  who  object  to  the  publication 
of  births,  say  to  this : 

"The  fortunate  delivery  of  my  beloved  wife,  Anna  Schumann,  nSe 
Stiefel,  of  a  sound  and  healthy  boy,  yesterday  avening,  at  fifteen  minutes 
before  six,  I  hereby  joyfully  announce  to  all  relatives  and  friends. 

"Kari,  Schumann." 


464 


AT  HOMB  AND  ABROAD. 


More   congratulations   follow  the   happy   event      The 

chrxstenirg,  however,    which   usually  takes   place   in   six 

^g  weeks,  18  only  announced  in  the  official  register     Most 

children   receive  from  three  to  six  names,  only  one  of 

which  IS  used,  except  in  signing  legal  documents.     Sup- 

posmg  the  Schumanns  to  be  prolific  and  long-Uved,  we  must 

wait  fifty  years  for  the  final  advertisement,  which  then 

appears  m  the  following  form  : 

"Tho  gentle  departure,  after  long  and  patfently  endured  sufferings,  of 
our  beloved  husban,^  father,  grandfather,  brother,  father-in-law,  cousin 
and  brot  er-in-law.  Karl  Schumann,  yeaterda,  afternoon  at  3  o'clock,  a; 
the  age  <pf  seventy-fl.e  years,  two  n^onths,  and  nine  day,  we  hereby  sor- 
rowfuly  announce  to  all  relatives  and  friend,  and  beg  for  their  silent 
sympathy  with  us. 

"The  Mournkpus,  wuq  are  left  Beuind." 

One  good  result  of  this  publicity,  at  least,  is  the  absence 
of  gossip.     Nevertheless,  it  is  repulsive  to  us,  who  have  been 
educated  in  different  ideas.    I  confess,  I  read  such  adver. 
tisements  habitually  for  the  purpose  of  amusement,  rather 
than  «  silent  sympathy."    An  undemonstrative  Englishman 
IS  sure  to  be  considered  phlegmatic,  if  not  cold-hearted,  in 
Germany.     Whatever  feeling  is  not  expressed  is  not  sup- 
posed  to  exist.      We  err  in  the  opposite  extreme,  of  co,; 
oeabng  much  honest  and  noble  affection.     How  often  h«ve 
I  heard  sincere  manly  friendship  made  a  taunt,  and  suspected 
love  a  subject  for  unmerciful  badinage! 

But  Society  in  Germany  has  also  its  tyrannical  aspects. 
The  intercourse  between  the  unmarried  is  most  rigidlv 
restricted;   the  interchange   of  visits  is  as  punctiliously 


»SPKCTS   or  GKEMAN   SOCllITT.  4,5 

regnhted  as  in  any  of.er  par.  „f  the  world;  .„d  the  di». 

o  be  cU«d  among  .he  obsol.le  absurdities  of  the  pL 
lecp  t  o,r  place.    The  stranger,  i„  a  new  .eighborboo^i: 
obhged  to  make  the  firs,  calls-a  custom  whfch  seems  the 

tha^he,  w.b  ,0  leave  .he  new-comer  free  .0  Lec^hi! 

The  te.ro.hed  m„s.  n.aka  a  formal  round  of  vWta  to  all 

he,r  re,a..vea,,tho  newly-mamed  ditto;  the  mother,  after 

n  nemen.    m.t  make  her  first  p„,Ue  appear^'ee  L 

church,  and  the  corpses  are  foUowed  to  the  grave  only  by 

»a,os.    In  Weimar,  Aitenburg,  and  other  remote  part'  !f 

he  country  the  superanuated  law,  of  this  sor.  are  number- 

'  ;;•  ""r  :  "-  "  '°""«  ■^''^  "^"^  ^"^  »  «™tleman, 
;t  ,^  "  "^"•"'"'^  "  >"™.  but  after  that  event  al^ 
restnc.,o„s  are  removed,    ^he  is  called  a  "  bride,"  her  lover 

of  th  Th™"";"  ""  '"'  "  "'  ""'  "'■■■»'''-«>  ''^  ^  "ember 
Of  the  other's  family. 

The  forma  of  address  arc  exceedingly  a„  kward  and  incon- 
vement.    Eve.y  person  who  has  any  official  position,  must 
be  addressed  by  a  corresponding  title,  and  (good  news  to  the 
st,o„g-mmded!)  h,s  wife  takes  the  same,  with  a  feminine 
Umrnafon.    Thus,  if  Hen-  Schmidt  happens  .0  be  a  Coun- 
sellor of  the  Superior  Court  of  Appeals,  it  is  a  violation  of 
et.que.te  to  call  him  Herr  Schmidt.    You  must  say:  "Herr 
Counsellor  of  .he  Superior  Cour.  of  Appeals,  how  is  the 
Frau  CounseUoress  of  the  Superior  Court  of  Appeals?" 
Even  the  Master-Shoemaker,  Herr  Duntz.  is  addressed  in 

20* 


466 


AT  HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


the  same  way,  and  his  wife  would  be  mortified  if  you  did 

not  greet   her  as    "Mrs.   Mastcr-Suoemakereas   Duntz." 

Could  anything  be  more  comical  than  to  hear:  "Mrd  In- 

spectoress  of  Penitentiaries,  let  me  introduce  you  to  Miss 

Fire-insurance  Company's  Pre«identess  f  "-and   yet   this 

may  happen  any  day  in  Germany.    As  the  husband  climbs 

upwards  on  the  official  ladder,  his  wife  climbs  with  him 

She  shares  his  ambition  and  his  triumphs,  and  rejoices  to  bo 

called  "Madame  Field-Marshaless »  or  "Madame  Prime 

Mmistress;"  almost  as  much  as  if  herself  had  won  the  star 

or  baton. 

A  most  delightful  feature  of  German  life  is  the  conscien- 
tiousn^s  with  which  domestic  anniversaries  are  observed 
and  celebrated.     No  birth-day  passes  by  unremembered : 
gifts,  even  if  trifling,  flowers,  and  the  favorite  dishes  at 
dmner  remind  each  one,  in  his  turn,  that  his  place  in  the 
^orld  is  still  warm.     The  married  celebrate  their  wedding- 
day,  and  Christmas  and  Pentecost  come  to  all.     I  am  glad 
that  we  are  gradually  naturalizing  the  former  festival,  and 
would  willingly  see  all  the  others  transplanted  into  our  soU, 
although,  when  such  customs  become  universal  and  ineritJ 
ble,  they  lose  something  of  that  spontaneity  which  is  their 
greatest  charm.     Our  life,  on  the  other  hand,  is  too  barren  • 
we  press  oontmually  forward,  on  a  hard,  hot,  stony  road' 
neglecting  every  tree  that  invites  us  to  rest  awhile  by  the 
wayside.    The  Germans  are  much  bettor  economists  than 
we.    Recreation  and  domestic  enjoyment  are  always  m- 
eluded  in  the  estimate  of  expenses,  and  the  business  of  the 
household  is  managed  in  so  careful  and  systematic  a  manner, 
that  a  family  with  one  thousand  dollars  a  year  manages  to 


ASPECTS   OP  OEBHAN  SOCIKTT.  437 

extract  much  more  enjoyment  from  existence,  than  most 
American  famUies  whose  incomes  are  triple  that  sum 

I  have  hoard  travellers  speak  of  the  bad  manners  of  the 
Germans;  of  their  heterogeneous  meals ;  of  their  heavmess 
and  awkwardness;   and  of  their  uncomfortable  mode  of 
life.     Such  persons  generally  belong  to  that  class  whose 
standard  of  judgment  is:  "Jdon't  do  so  and  so:  therefore 
the  people  are  wrong.'     One  of  them,  whom  I  pressed 
closely  to  give  me  some  instances  of  bad  manners,  finally 
stated  that  he  had  seen  Germans  eating  fish  with  knives 
and  dnnkmg  Champagne  out  of  Madeira  glasses  I     The 
little  details  of  the  table  vary  in  difierent  countries,  and  in 
different  generations.     Sir  Philip  Sydney  drank  beer  for  his 
breakfast,  and  Queen  Elizabeth  picked  her  teeth  with  her 
fork.     Refinement  (by  which  I  mean  what  is  snobbishly 
termed  "gentility")  does  not  consist  in  such  small  matters 
Ho  was  a  gentleman  who  died  at  Zutphen,  even  though  he 
had  never  used   a  pocket-handkerchief      An  American 
woman,  travelling  i„  Germany,  minus  the  language,  has 
recently  published  a  volume   entitled   « Peasant  Life  in 
Germany,"  which  is  filled  with  the  grossest  blunders     She 
measures  everything  she  sees  hy  an  American  standard 
as  If  that  were  the  only  admitted  test  of  excellence 

There  is  this  lesson  to  be  derived  from  an  intimate  ac 
quamtance  with  other  lands  and  other  races-that  no  coun- 
try possesses  the  best.  The  advantages  and  disadvantages 
of  life  are  distributed  more  impartially  than  one  would 
suppose.  It  would  be  very  difiicult  for  an  American  to 
endure  the  annoyances  of  living  under  European  law.,  but 
he  could  scarcely  fail  to  enjoy  the  order  and  security  pre- 


468 


AT  HOME  AND   ABROAD. 


vailing    under  a  long-establisheu   Government,   and    the 
freeaom  of  a  matured  and  settled  Society.    With  complete 
political    independence,   we    must    rtill    endure   a  tocicU 
tyranny.     The  opinion  of  the  community  in  which  we  live, 
with  regard  to  our  own  opinions,  actions,  and  habits  of  life,' 
i«  the  Autocrat  that  rules  us.     Where  this  public  opinion' 
18  enhghtened,  liberal,  and  generous,  very  well ;  no  home  in 
the  world  can  be  more  fortunate.     But  where  it  is  narrow 
and  uncharitable,  resist  it  and  you  will  become  a  social 
martyr. 


xxxviir. 

A  TRUE  STORY. 


O.  the  15th  of  October.  1856,  a  celebration  of  a  pecnihr 

pa^aed  over  unobserved,  and  unknown  „  aU,  excep,    •! 

wh.eh,  my  y^  and  one  da,  before,  annihUated  th    ^  " 

most  of  the  German  newspapers,  and  through  this  circum 
stance  the  seque.  of  the  story  which  I  am  about  to  Z' 
wa.  brought  on.    At  the  time  the  celebration  tootle 

was  res.du.g  in  Gotha,  not  more  than  fift,  mfles  from.;: 
rot,  and  receded  the  story  almost  in  the  very  words  of 

ech,ef  actor  in  it.    I  am  so-ry  that  his  name,  and    ha 
ofthe  vmage,  have  escaped  my  memory.    Ml  o  her  p    U 


470 


AT   HOME   AXD   ABROAD. 


J 


We  must  first  go  back  to  the  14th  of  October,  1806. 
On  that  day  the  windy  uplands  north-cast  of  Jena  wit- 
nessed  the  brief  but  terrible  combat,  which  resulted  in  the 
triumphant  entry  of  the  French  army  into  Berlin,  eleven 
days    atlerwards,   during   which    time  Prussia    had   lost 
60,000  men,  65  standards,  and  600  cannon.     A  portion  of 
the  French   army  was  encamped   on  the  battlefield,  or 
quartered  in  the  villages  around.     The  poor  inhabitants, 
overwhelmed  by  this  sudden  avalanche  of  war  upon  their 
quiet  fields,  where,  for  a  hundred  years  or  more,  they  had 
reaped  their  harvests  in  peace,  submitted  in  helpless  apathy 
while  their  houses  and  barns  were  plundered  by  the  law- 
less soldiery.     The  battle  was  over,  but  there  was  no  lull 
in  the  blast  of  ruin.     Through  the  clouds  of  cannon-smoke 
which  settled  into  the  bosoms  of  the  deep  valleys,  as  the 
raw  October  evening  came  on,  were  heard  in  all  dii-ections 
shrieks  of  fear,  yells  of  rage  or  triumph,  and  cries  of  pain 
or  lamentation. 

Davoust,  the  "Butcher  of  Hamburg"  (as  the  Germans 
call  him),  took  up  his  quarters  for  the  night  in  one  of  the 
most  convenient  and  comfortable  houses  which  could  be 
found  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  scene  of  slaughter.     Here 
he  rapidly  issued  orders  for  the  disposition  of  the  forces 
under  his  command,  gave  directions  for  the  morrow,  and 
received  reports  from  his  adjutants.      He  had  taken  his 
cloak,  and  was  about  retiring  to  an  inner  chamber  for 
repose,  when  an  officer  entered.     "Pardon  me.  General," 
he  said,  "  but  here  is  a  case  which  requires  attention.    This 
German    canaille  must  be  taught  to  respect  us.       Ton 
Boldiers  of  Company ,  ,f  the  Fourth  Infantry,  who 


A  TEUK  STORV. 


4?I 


quartered  themselvo,  in  the  village  of  Waldorf  [let  „,  aavl 
.a  e  been  driven  a.a,  b,  the  people,  and  ti ^  t ,2 
of  them  are  severely  injured  •> 

Davonsf,  cold  eye  glittelx-d,  and  his  m„„s.ache  curled 
ke  he  hp  o   a  ra^tiff,  a,  he  turned,  halting  a  moment  a! 

dorf  ?"  h„  ,  n  r  '"''''"'■    "  ■*^''«'-«  «  Wal- 

dorf?    h„  „jj,j_  ,„^._^^  ^_^^^^_^^^  ^^^  ^^ 

teis  for  the  enemy  m  their  own  land. 

"  There  is  a  village  called  Upoer  Waldorf     i,-  .    r 
near  the  head  „f  a  smaU  vaUe,  t^'  thelr^LrWaT 
dorf  IS  on  the  other  side  of  the  h;il        i   t 
about  half  an  hour,  distance  he;„nd'  '""■  '""'"' 

The  Ma,^hal,  not  caring  to  annoy  himself  by  more  mi 
nute  inqun-ics,  went  to  bed     Tf  , 
was  sufficient.  "■"'  ""="  ""'=  »>""'  'I"" 

The  next  morning  at  sunrise,  Lieutenant  lamotte  with 
«my  -nen,  marched  over  the  trampled  hills  to  s^   W  ' 

.  "'"*    On  reaching  a  ridge  which  overlooked 

t"  """■'^'.'■°"  »f  '-  or  three  valleys,  more  than  one  v  ' 
Z  T  "''"";*™"^'"  "■»  -'<»  %■  now  beginning 

-..:t:i!::2f;;^;--°f^-.i,t 

T^r..,  r.  ^^*^^"   imnutcs  more   the 

s^  renchmen  marched  into  the  little  hamlet 

Halting  in  an  open  space  between  the  church  and  the 


472 


AT  HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


It  I 


t 

i 


two  principal  beer-houses,  the  officer  summoned  the  inhabit- 
ants  together.  The  whole  village  was  already  awake,  for 
few  had  slept  during  the  night.  Their  ears  were  stiU 
stunned  by  the  thunders  of  yesterday,  and  visions  of  burn- 
ing  and  pillage  still  danced  before  their  eyes.  At  the 
command  of  the  Lieutenant,  the  soldiers  seized  aU  the  male 
inhabitants,  and  forcibly  placed  them  in  line  before  him.  The 
women  and  chUdren  waited  near,  in  terrible  anxiety,  for  no 
one  understood  the  words  which  were  spoken,  and  these 
ominous  preparations  led  tnem  to  imagine  the  worst. 

At  this  juncture  the  son  of  the  village  pa^cor  appeared 
upon, the  scene.  He  was  a  young  man  of  twenty,  who  was 
studying  theology,  in  order  to  become  his  father's  succes- 
sor, and  fortunately  had  some  knowledge  of  French.  The 
appearance  of  things,  without  the  cries  and  entreaties  of 
the  terrified  people,  told  him  that  his  help  was  wanted ;  he 
immediately  addressed  himself  to  Lieut.  Lamotte,  and 
begged  for  an  explanation  of  the  proceedings. 

"  I  am  ordered  to  punish  this  viUage,"  answered  the  lat- 
ter, "for  your  treatment  of  some  of  our  soldiers  last  night. 
The  Marshal  orders  that  ten  of  you  must  be  shot.  The  only 
thing  I  can  do  is,  to  allow  you  to  draw  lots  among  your- 
selves, or  to  point  out  those  concerned  in  the  outrage." 

"But,"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  "your  General  has 
been  misinformed.  No  French  soldiers  have  visited  our 
village  before  you.  We  have  truly  been  in  great  fear  and 
anxiety  the  whole  night,  but  the  valley  is  deep,  and  the 
village  is  partly  concealed  from  view  by  the  wood  on  this 
side.  There  are  also  the  villages  of  Middle  and  Lower 
Waldoit;  which  lie  further  down  in  the  open  valley.     You 


A  TEUE  STOET. 


473 


.anocen,  and  I  entreat  you  „„t  to  .hed  the  blood  of  on- 
ha™.       people,,     -There  i,  „„  .i„e  for  iovestigatio    ■• 
«a,d,ho  officer;  "I  was  ordered  to  proceed  to  Waldorf 
and  I  am  guided  hither.    I  „ii,  ,.,h  „„tU  you  raj^l 
cl.o.0  of  ten  to  bo  ^rificed.  but  have  no  authority  I  do 

thorn  "t,""  ""  """"'  ■    "  ""™'»  ""=  •■'"»  -  "o-  for 
them^     The  women,  with    ,ars  and  appeaUng  gesture, 

zTia  rT:''  ''^''"  "^^"^ "-  -  'p-  «.e^ 

«ons  and  husbands;  the  men  s„od  silent,  with  bloodless 
•  ''!" ';"^, ''™"  '"'r'-"S  «yes.     The  scene  was  evidently 
pa.„fu>,  both  to  the  officer  and  the  soldier,  accnsto.ned  !s 
thoy  were  to   the  unmerciful  code  of  war.      They  wer 
-n-ous  to  put  an  end  to  it,  and  leave;  but  the  clergLan- 

red  upon  „„  efforts,  continued  .„  urge  his  plea  with  : 
-.eal  and  eloquence  that  would  not  be  set  ashie.    Lieut 
I-mo  to  struggled  awhile  between  his  sense  of  duty  and 
h.s  natural  humanity,  whUe  the  young  advocate  appealed 
to  h.s  conscence  .and  to  the  obedience  which  he  owed  to  a 
h,gher  Commander  than  Davoust.    Finally,  he  consented 
to  wa,t  wh,le  a  sergeant  whs  dispatched  to  headanarters 
acco„pa„,ed  by  a  peasant,  to  show  him  the  neare'st  way' 
A  few  hnes,  hastily  pencilled,  stated  the  facts  in  the  case 
and  asked  for  further  instructions. 

Meanwhile  the  inhabitants  waited  in  a  state  o,  suspense 
scarce^  to  be  endured.  Lieut.  Lamotte,  who,  as  a  thorough 
Fr..chman,  soon  wearied  of  a  painful  emotion,  and  shook 
•t  off  at  the  r,-  V  of  appearing  heartless,  sMd :_ 


i:i: 


474 


AT   H031E   AND   ABKOAD. 


"  The  morning  is  keen,  and  a  walk  before  sunrise  does 
not  diminish  the  appetite ;  can  you  give  us  some  refresh- 
ment from  your  hidden  supplies?"  At  a  word  from  the 
young  man  many  of  the  women  brought  together  coffee, 
which  they  had  prepared  for  their  own  breakfasts,  with 
black  bread,  mugs  of  beer,  and  a  small  cheese  or  two,  suffi- 
cient for  a  rough  meal,  of  which  the  soldiers  partook,  with 
the  usual  laughing  comments  on  "/a  cuisine  AllemandeP 
The  company  of  victims  looked  on  in  silence,  and  more 
than  one  muttered  gloomily,  "We  are  feeding  our  execu- 
tioners." 

"  Even  if  that  should  be  true,"  said  the  young  man,  « it 
is  but  doing  as  Christ  has  taught  us.     Whether  or  not  we  * 
obtain  Christian  charity  from  these  men,  let  us  at  least 
show  them  that  we  are  Christians." 

This  solemn  rebuke  had  its  effect.  A  few  of  the  men 
assisted  in  entertai-  ng  the  soldiers,  and  the  latter,  with 
their  faciUty  of  fraternization,  soon  made  themselves  at  home. 
As  the  stomach  fills  the  heart  also  enlarges,  and  the  men 
began  to  say  among  themselves:  "It  is  a  pity  these  good 
fellows  should  be  shot  by  mistake." 

It  was  not  long  before  the  sergeant  and  his  guide 
arrived.  The  former  handed  the  Lieutenant  a  note,  which 
he  hastUy  tore  open  and  read:—"  Waste  no  more  time  in 
parley.  It  is  indifferent  which  a  illage  is  punished  ;  an  ex- 
ample  must  be  made.  Do  your  duty,  and  return  instantly." 
So  ran  the  pitiless  answer. 

"  Choose  your  men,"  said  the  Liontenant,  rising  to  his 
feet,  and  grinding  his  teeth  to  keep  down  his  faltering  heart. 
But  now  the  lamentations  broke  out  afresh.     Tlie  women 


A  TRUE  STOET. 


411 


^  u  g  around  the  men  who  were  dear  to  the,n,  and  ,„a„y 
of  the  latter,  overcome  by  the  general  d«tr  ,.  u.  e  ed 
loud  e,,e,  and  prayer,  for  merey.  The  yonng  ^an  Clt 
down  m  front  of  then,,  raying  to  the  oLrf  "  I  do  Jo 

tlie  sm  of  this  slaughter  from  your  soul. " 
As  the  officer  met  his  earnest  eyes   full  nf  a      i.r 

rredti-"""^^-""--''^--^^^^^ 

,r.    They  looked  at  hin-   but  no  word  was  spoken    Their 

hands  were  ,n  the  proper  place,  according  to  drill  regur 

.on,      d  there  were  drops  on  many  ch!eks  whichC 

V  hispered  in  an  agitated  voice :— 

"  My  friend,  I  will  save  you  by  a  stratagem.    Choose 
ten  of  your  most  courageous  men,  place  them  in  bne  b' 

z:::r"::i  °*^  '"^-'^'-  -^°- '-™ .':  ui: 

must  fa  1  fla.  V"""'  '  ^^°  '"'  °*^  '»  «-  'W 

must  fall  flat  upon  the  ground.    My  soldiers  will  aim  high 

and  no  one  wul  be  injured.    As  soon  as  the  volley  is  flrfd' 

I  will  give  the  order  to  march  bnt  n.,  „ 

Ms  place  nntU  we  are  out  "sii'  ""'  ''"  ''™ 

These  words  were  instantly  translated  to  the  people  but 
-  great  was  their  panic  that  no  one  offered  to  ZT'^l 
P  tor's  son  then  took  his  place,  alone,  in  the  vaean  sp^ce 
before  the  hne  of  soldiers,     "  I  „«■«,  ,y,„f ,,  ^^y  J:2 

e,  trusting  in  God  that  we  shall  ,„,  be  sa  ed,  and  i  ea" 
"Pon  those  of  y„„  who  have  the  heart.,  of  m  „  ,„  ,„J 


4^6 


AT   BOMS   AND   ABROAD. 


bodies,  to  stand  beside  me."  Young  Conrad,  a  sturdy 
farmer,  and  but  newly  a  bridegroom,  joined  him,  casting,  as 
he  did  so,  a  single  encouraging  look  upon  his  future  wife, 
Avho  turned  deadly  pale,  but  spoke  not  a  word.  One  by 
one,  as  men  who  have  resolved  to  face  death— for  the  most 
of  them  had  but  a  trembling  half-confidence  in  their  escape, 
eight  others  walked  out  and  took  their  places  in  Uue.  The 
women  shuddered  and  hid  their  eyes;  the  men  looked 
steadily  on  in  the  fascination  of  terror,  and  the  little  chil- 
dren in  awed  but  ignorant  curiosity.  The  place  was  as  silent 
as  if  devoid  of  life. 

Again  the  Lieutenant  surveyed  his  men.     »  Take  aim !'» 
lie  cdmmanded— "aim  at  their  heads,  that  your  work  may 
be  well  done !»    But  though  his  voice  was  clear  and  strong, 
and  the  tenor  of  his  words  not  to  be  mistaken,  a  clairvoyant 
flash  of  hidden  meaning  ran  down  the  line,  and  the  men 
understood  him.     Then  came  the  last  command,  ''Fire!'' 
but  in  the   second   which  intervened  between   the    word 
and  the  ringing  volley,  the  ten  men  were  already  falling. 
The  crack  of  the  muskets  and  the  sound  of  their  bodies  as 
they  struck  the  earth,  were  simultaneous.     Without  pans- 
ing  an  instant,  the  Lieutenan'  jried  "Right  about,  wheel !» 
"  Forward!''  and  the  measured  tiarap  of  the  soldiers  rang 
down  the  narrow  village  street. 

The  women  uncovered  their  eyes  and  gazed.  There  liiy 
the  ten  men,  motionless  and  apparently  lifeless.  With  wild 
cries  they  gathered  around  them,  but  ere  their  exclamations 
of  despair  were  turned  into  those  of  joy,  tlie  last  of  the 
soldiers  had  disappeared  in  the  near  wood.  Then  followed 
weeping  embrnces,  as  nil  arose  f-om  the  ground,  laughter, 


B»='-vSSIr:liS9CtS'.a 


^  TBUE  STORY. 


477 


and  sobs  of  Jiysterical  iov     Th 

example,  uttered  nn  o!  reverently  followed  his 

oi  our  own  countrv      Mo         •  ^  Missions 

e-ona.„„..rerzx;:itr-»- 

Bocicy.  ""  '^"""'^  ^  P™-=nt  and  a„ece.sfa. 

The  inhabitants  of  W^Idnr^  r,^       /• 
->«  *e™.    He  „,„e  ^^^Z  T  """'''""'  - 
^^ysin  the  <,„iet  little  village  ^C    I'w'r''"'  "  ^''' 

the,„„stevo„tf„,eH3i.„fiif,u.e:~;/r      ■''"*' 
out  of  the  ten  psoudo-vietitn.  „f  n  ''''  """o 

their  old  home,  .J2  ™"''  '^""^  «'"  «™g  in 

-ni.een.e:r'a:t    :rof  T'"''  '"^  '"»' *<^ 
special  celebration.  ^  ll:"f /°  ^'■'■"  -'-"-<'  " 

P-o..  3o„)  .a.  invited  to  he  J^^Zf  h™°''^  '"' 
would  have  come  f, «-  -.^  -       -  ^^  "^""o 


tbo  ends  of  the  earth-and  after 


if 

5'' 


ill 

i.l 


a 


478 


AT   nOME   AND   ABROAD. 


solemn  and  relio^ious  service  in  the  church  proceeded  to  the 
very  spot  on  which  he  had  stood  and  faced  the  F-encU 
muskets,  and  there  related  to  the  children  and  grand- 
children of  those  he  had  saved,  the  narrative  which  I  have 
here  given  in  less  moving  and  eloquent  words.  Those  who 
were  present  describe  the  scene  as  having  been  singularly 
impressive  ari  j^ffecting.  The  three  old  men  sat  near  him 
as  he  spoke,  and  the  emotions  of  that  hour  of  trial  were  so 
vividly  reproduced  in  their  minds,  that  at  the  close  they 
laughed  and  wept  as  they  had  done  on  the  same  day  fifty 
years  before. 

Im  conclusion  the  speaker  referred  to  the  officer  whose 
humane  stratagem  had  preserved  their  lives.  "  Since  that 
day,"  said  be,  « I  have  never  heard  of  him.  I  did  not  even 
learn  his  name,  but  he  is  ever  remembered  in  my  thoughts 
and  prayers.  Most  probably  he  died  a  soldier's  death  on 
one  of  the  many  fields  of  slaughter  which  intervened 
between  Jena  and  Waterloo ;  but  if  he  siiould  still  be  living 
it  would  cheer  my  last  days  on  earth  ii"  I  could  reach  him 
with  a  single  word  of  gratitude. ' 


In  the  same  year  there  lived— and  no  doubt  still  is  living 
—in  Lyons,  an  invalided  and  pensioned  Captain  of  the 
Napoleonic  wars.  After  a  life  of  vicissitudes  he  found  him- 
self, in  his  old  age,  alone,  forgotten,  and  poor.  Men  uo 
braver  and  better  than  he  had  achieved  distinction  by  some 
lucky  chance ;  fortune  had  come  to  others,  and  others  had 
begotten  children  to  cheer  and  vitalize  their  declining  days. 


A   TRUE   8T0BY. 


479 


Hnn  the  world  had  passed  by,  and  for  years  he  had  been 
l»-ng  a  quiet,  sUent,  pinched  life,  by  the  aid  of  his  scanty 
pension  His  daily  resort  was  a  caf^,  where  he  could  see 
and  read  the  principal  European  journals,  and  perhaps  me. 
■  sure  the  changed  politics  of  the  present  time  by  the  expe- 
riences of  his  past  life.  ^ 

One  day  in  November,  1856,  he  entered  the  caft.  as 
usual,  took  his  accustomed  seat,  and  picked  up  the  nearest 
paper.     It  happened  to  be  the  Augsburg  ^//^,;n,,-„,  ^,, 
tun,;  but  he  had  spent  some  years  in   Germany,  and 
understood   the  language  tolerably.     IKs    attention   was 
attracted  by  a  letter  dated  Jena.     "  Jena  ?"  he  thinks-"  I 
was  there  too.     What  is  going  on  there  now  ?»    He  reads 
a  httle  further-"  Celebration   at   Waldorf?     Waldorf? 
The  name  is  familiar:  where  have  I  heard  it?"    As  he 
contmues  his    perusal,  the  old   captain's  excitement,   so 
unusual  a  circumstunce,  attracts  the  attention  of  the  other 
habitues  of  the  caf5.     ^^  Grand  Dieuf    Davoust-Waldorf 
"-the  ten  men-the  pastor's  son!    Did  I  dream  such  a 
thmg,  or  is  it  the  same?"     Forgotten  for  years  and  jears 
-effaced  by  a  hundred  other  military  adventures-over- 
laid and  1  .St  in  the  crowded  stores  of  a  soldier's  memory 
the  scene  came  to  light  again.    The  pastor's  son  stiU  lived' 
still  remembered  and  thanked  the  preserver  of  his  native 
village!    Many  a  long  year  had  passed  since  such  a  glow 
warmed  the  chambers  of  the  old  man's  heart. 

That  evoning  he  wrote  to  Dr. ,  in  Leipzig. 

The  latter  was  ill,  and  but  a  few  months  from  his  last  ' 
hour,  but  the  soldier's  letter  seemed  like  a  providential 
answer  to  his  prayers,  and  brightened  the  flickerinc.  dose 


M    . 


1 


480 


AT  nOMB   AND   ADfiOAD. 


of  his  life.    A  manly  and  affectionate  correspondence  was 
carried  on  between  the  two  while  the  latter  lived.    The 
circumstance  becai^e  public,  and  the  deed  was  officially 
recognised  in  a  way  most  flattering  to  the  pride  of  Capt. 
Lamotte.    The  Grand  Duke  of  Saxe- Weimar  and  the  King 
of  Saxony  conferred  upon  Lim  the  orders  of  their  respective 
houses,  which  were  followed  soon  afterwards  by  the  Cross 
of  the  I^egion  of  Honor  from  Louis  Napoleon,  and  an 
increase  of  his  pension  which  assured  him  ease  and  comfort 
for  the  remainder  of  his  life.    A  translation  of  the  Dr.'a 
narrative,  published  in  the  French  papers,  drew  attention 
to  him,  and  he  was  no  longer  a  neglected  frequenter  of  the 
caf^.    He  was  known  and  honored,  even  without  his  orders. 
"Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  ^nd  thou  shall  find  it 
again,  after  many  days." 


XXXIX. 

THE  LANDSCAPES  OF  THE  WORLD. 


Iff 


Thk  doctrine  of  «  Correspondences  "-a  system  of  paraUels 
between  the  material  and  spiritual  world-which  forms  so 
promment  an  element  in  Swedenborgian  Faith,  asserts  its 
truth  m  one  respect,  to  the  mind  of  every  man  who  has 
travelled   much.    Landscapes  exhibit  almost  as  g.  ^t  a 
variety  of  expression  as  the  human  face-they  embrace  aU 
moods  and  aU  characters  in  their  infinite  scale.    Nature  is 
both  refined  and  savage,  poetic  and  vulgar,  friendly  and 
cruel,  beautiful  and  repulsive.    Who  has  not  felt,  a  thou- 
Band  tmies,  the  sentiment  of  Leigh  Hunt's  lines: 

"And  all  the  landscape-earth,  and  sea,  and  sky. 
Breathed  like  a  bright-eyed  face,  that  laughs  out  openly." 

Some  regions  of  the  earth  are  as  tar.e  nnd  barren  as  the 
mmds  of  certain  communities;  others  bask  in  superb  opu. 

21  ^         i' 


482 


AT   IIOMB   AND  ABROAD. 


lence,  and  squander  their  boundless  stores  of  beauty ;  and 
others  again,  rise  in  their  unexpected  sublimity  and  power, 
as  far  above  the  average  character  of  scenery,  as  genius 
rises  above  the  ordinary  level  of  the  human  mind. 

Nature  has  her  masterpieces  in  every  department  of  her 
realm.     There  is,  if  we  knew  ic,  somewhere  upon  the  cnrth 
one  river  which  transcends  all  other  sLrcams— one  moun- 
tain  whose  majesty  stands  unapproached— one  coast  which 
makes  the  voyager  forget  all  other  shores— and  one  valley 
where  the  bee  finds  his  sweetest  honey  and  the  winds  their 
most  delicious  balm.     I  might  demonstrate  this,  with  all 
the  case  of  a  proposition  in  Euclid,  without  being  able  to 
name  any  one  of  those  favored  spots— for  who  has  ever 
beheld,  or  ever  shall  behold,  all  ttie  landscapes  of  the  world  ? 
We  must  not  be  too  hasty  in  trusting  to  the  individual 
likings  of  travellers.     Many  persona  are  thrown  into  rap- 
tures  by  a  beautiful  view,  the  expression  of  which  touches 
some  taste  or  passion  of  their  own.     Scotland  is  more  en- 
joyed,  by  most  Americans,  than  Switzerland,  and  Rome 
makes  a  profounder  impression  than  Athens:  yet  in  the 
Gallery  of  Nature,  the  order  of  excellence  is  reversed. 
Every  country  has  its  chosen  landscapes,  which  you  must 
see,  or  you  have  missed  "the  tin.  •;,  sif-ht  in  the  -vorla.'» 
The  Neapolitan  says:  "See  Nui.i.j.  una  then  die;"  "Who 
has  not  in  Granada  been,  verily,  he  has  nothing  seen,"  is 
the  Spanish  proverb ;  "  I  will  not  look  upon  Damascus,  lest 
I  should  cease  to  desire  Paradise,"  was  the  exclamation  of 
Mohammed.     The  central  point  of  beauty  and  of  grandeur, 
in  Humboldt's  memoriea  of  scenery,  was  Chimborazo. 
Do  not  ask  me  now  ''  which  is  the  finest  landscape  in  the 


IB.  UNMCAPK   0»  T.,.  WORLD.  4,, 

worid  f"  bcc.„«  it  would  bo  «  difficult  «  .0  d,„iae  .bi,h 
was  the  best  man  you  ever  know     n  *      •  . 
-parate  fo.t„.e,  t  Je  i,  .o^  e^t^  Je"  ;";^  .^ ^,  •" 
jrin  E„.„p„  i.  tbe  D.„„be:  but  r    i  J;! ^  ^ 
of  mouotonou,  p,„i„,  b.  ,„„„  ,,  .,^     ^„^^_,     «■»'-» 
The  Uh,„e  ha,  h«  pb^„,  „f  ,„^^^^  bea„ty_,ike.  irle 
Khone,  the  Elbe,  the  C„„„e..i.„,  .„a  ,..  Obio.    K I tf' 
U.=  groat  „,am  arteriea  of  Cortiueut^the  Mi»i«ipp    1 
A^a^n,  the  Nile,  the  Volga,  and  the  Y..,ZZ:l 
«h,b,t  a  beaut,  of  .a„d«.pe  proportioned  to  tbeif  ,"*T 
and  volume.    The  main  cbaracteriatic  of  their  J    f 
however  exquisite  it  u,a,  be  in  deta^'-i.  n,o„oto„r  C 
there  «  one  river  which,  from  it,  „urce  to  .h„ 
;on,  a  ,o„,  chain  of  ,and«.pe,  wberei:  tter'e   .70^ 
«^ure,bu.  each  successive  view  pre^.t,  newcombinatt 
of  beauty  and  maje,ty_which  other  rivers  may  surpass  i„ 
^ct^n^butnonerivalasawhol^anditsnlmXTh: 

ail  others.  The  foamy  whuper,  of  Alpine  streamlets  are 
unheard  beside  it.  But  water  is  Protean  in  its  ^^s  and 
-ovemcn^,  and  there  are  n>in.cles  of  beauty  which  1 
cannot    ndcUnging  to  the  mighty  emerald  planes  of 'u^ 

zto^-  .""""^ "'  «"-^''— ™»wsastor; 

c  aff  of  d..monds:  the  TWoUhStta,  ■„  Sweden,  tosses  up 
globes  of  pmk-tmted  spray,  the  Aar  descends  like  an 
avalanche  of  sUver  cauliflowers,  and  the  Riukan,  in  Nor. 
»»^  flutters  into  scarfs  of  the  richest  lace.  Each  of  these 
Its  mdrndual  char™  a„d  fascination,  but  Niagara  is  the 
n  whose  presence  you  stand  dumb 


ha. 
Titan 


484 


AT   nOMK   AM>   AUKOAU. 


An  Englishman  will  probably  tell  you  that  the  Isle  of 
Wight  is  the  most  beautiful  island  in  the  world.  A  New 
Yorker  will  mention  Staten  Island ;  an  Italian  point  to  the 
rocky  lion  of  Capri,  and  an  East-Indian  think  of  Ceylon. 
Having  never  seen  Madeira,  or  Oahu,  or  palmy  Nukahcva, 
or  Upolo,  in  the  Samoan  group,  I  am  not  capable  of  decid- 
iiig;  but  of  all  the  islan«ls  upon  which  I  ever  set  foot, 
Ponang  is  far  the  loveliest.  Not  more  than  ten  miles  in 
length,  it  rises  on  one  side  into  a  group  of  mountains,  2500 
feet  high,  while  on  the  other  it  spreads  out  its  level 
orchards  of  nutmeg  and  cinnamon  trees  to  the  sun.  East- 
wand,  across  emerald  water  and  snowy  reefs  of  coral,  you 
see  the  shores  of  Malacca,  and  westward,  beyond  the  pur- 
ple sea,  the  volcanic  peaks  of  Sumatra.  Cold  is  unknown, 
but  ♦he  tropical  heats  are  never  oppressive.  The  air  be- 
wilders you  with  its  fragrance,  the  trees  and  flowers  charm 
you  with  their  beauty.     The  island  is  a  miniature  Eden, 


"  Whore  falls  not  raiu,  or  hail,  or  any  snow, 
Nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly ;  but  it  lies 
Deep-meadowed,  happy,  fair  with  orchard-lawns 
And  bowery  hollows  crowned  with  summer  sea." 


With  the  exception  of  the  Altai  and  the  Andes  of  South 
America,  I  have  seen  the  principal  mountain  chains  of  the 
world,  besides  the  most  renowned  isolated  groups  and 
separate  peaks.  Here,  again,  there  are  differences  of  glory. 
The  Alps  boast  the  contrast  of  pastoral  loveliness  with  the 
icy  desolation  of  the  glaciers ;  the  Taurus  has  its  tremen- 
dous defiles  and  gorges,  and  the  Himalayas  their  snowy 
wedges  of  supernatural  height  and  brilliancy.     But  there 


THE  LANDSCAPES   OF  TI^   WOBLD.  435 

is  one  n.o,n.tain,  which,  having  one;  seen,  you  acknow- 
ledge  ever  afterwards  as  monarch.  This  is  the  Peak  of  Ori 
zaba,  in  Mexico.  The  Andes  of  Ecuador  .  ise  from  a  table- 
land  9,000  feet  above  the  sea;  the  loftiest  summits  of 
the  Himalayas  lie  behind  two  lower  chains,  the  High  Alps 
are  buttressed  on  all  sides-but  Orizaba  ascends  in  one 
splendid  sweep  from  the  level  of  a  tropical  sea  to  the 
height  of  18,000  feet! 

Standing  on  the  mountain-terrace  of  Jalapa,  which  is 
between  four  and  five  thousand  feet  above  the  Gulf  of  Mex- 
ICO,  you  see  the  entire  mountain,  like  a  colossal  picture 
painted  on  the  blue  background  of  the  air.     Leagues  upon 
leagues  of  palm  forests  cover  the  level,  sandy  plain  made  by 
the  retrocession  of  the  sea  which  once  washed  his  feet 
Then  there  are  plantations   of  orange  and  coffee  trees  • 
higher  up,  woods  of  chestnut  and  oak;  higher  still,  a  broad, 
dark  belt  of  pine,  then,  naked  rock,  and  finally  commenc- 
ing four  thousand  feet  below  the  summit,  the  region  of 
eternal  snow !     The  mountain  is  a  steep  and  perfect  cone, 
leanmg,   on  its  western  side,   against  the  table-land   of 
Mexico.      In  certain  conditions  of  the  atmosphere,  it  is 
visible  at  a  distance  of  two  hundred  miles,  consequently  the 
rays  of  the  morning  sun  do  not  reach  its  base  until  nearly 
fifteen  minutes  after  they  have  gilded  its  summit,  and  the 
immaculate  peak  shines  like  a  blazing  star  in  the  sky,  when 
the  rapid  twilight  of  the  Tropics  has  already  darkened 
Jalapa. 

All  these,  however,  are  but  single  features  of  a  landscape, 
and  the  crowning  triumph  of  Xature  is  the  grouping  of 
them  together  in  an  order  which  shall  heighten  the  effect 


.m 


486 


AT  HOME  AND   ABROAD. 


Si  ' 


of  each,  thereby  producing  a  i^icture  perfect  and  sublime. 
If,  as  Mr.  Tupper  modestly  desires,  we  had  the  Andes 
rising  on  either  side  of  Niagara,  the  Cataract  would  gain 
nothing  in  effbct  thereby.     On  the  other  hand  Moir^tains 
and  the  Sea  are  foils  to  each  other;  so  are  grim  precipices 
and  flowery  meadows,  white,  glittering  cities,  and  ranges 
of  bare  blue  hills.     Nature,  at  some  times  a  bungler,  is  at 
other  times  a  divine  artist.     Give  her  a  broad  canvas,  rich 
colors,  and  the  forms  in  which  she  most  delights,  and  she 
occasionally  produces  pictures  which   seem  to  beJor  g  to 
some  happy  planet  nearer  the  sun,  rather  than  to  this 
impprfect  Earth  of  ours. 

The  Orientals  have  their  four  famous  Gardens  of  Asia,  che 
charms  of  which  have  been  celebrated  in  their  poetry  for 
many  a  hundred  years.     They  are :  Damascus,  Shiraz,  Sa- 
marcand,  and  Cashmere.    To  these  Broussa  was  added  by 
the  Otto  nans,  while  Granada  was  assigned  a  still  higher 
place  by  the  poets  of  Saracenic  Spain.     But  the  beauty  of  a 
landscape,  to  the  Oriental  eye,  consists  in  its  abundance 
of  verdure,  traversed  by  runnmg  streams— a  combination 
of  shade,  coolness,  and  grateful  color,  which  only  those  can 
properly  appreciate  to  whom  yeUow  sand,  and  scorched 
red  hills,  quivering  in  heat,  are  the  habitual  features  of  the 
Earth.     Enclose  such  a  picture  m  a  frame  of  mountains, 
some  of  which  rise  to  the  region  of  snow,  and  they  can 
imagine  nothing  more  beautiful. 

They  are  so  far  right,  that  the  masterpieces  of  landscape  ' 
must  be  sought  either  within  the  Tropics,  or  upon  their 
borders.    A  view  which  at  times  is  dark  and  lifeless,  or 
colorless  with  snow,  gives  no  complete  satisfaction  to  the 


THE  LANDSCAPES   r  .  g   ^^jj^D.  487 

mind.    Edinburgh,  from  Arthur's  Seat,  and  Florence  fi-om 
F,esoIe,  are  superb  in  summer,  and  imposing  at  all  times- 
but  we  cannot  award  them  the  first  place.    No  city  in  the 
world  presents  such  a  wonderful  picture  as  Constantinople 
as  seen  from  the  entrance  of  the  Bosphorus;  Naples  and' 
Rio  Janeiro  are  scarcely  inferior,  but  in  them  that  dazzlin^ 
fairy  architecture,  which  seems  to  belong  to  the  realm  of 
dreams,  is  wanting. 

Of  the  many  thousands  of  landscapes  which  have  de- 
bghted  my  eyes,  there  are  four  which  remain  indelibly 
impressed  upon  my  memory,  as  supreme  in  all  the  elements 
-f  beauty  and  majesty-four  pictures,  each  o;  which,  in  my 
gallery,  occupies  a  hall  of  its  own,  wherein  no  inferior  work 
shall  ever  be  placed.     They  are:  the  Vega  of  Granada, 
Damascus,  Broussa,  and  the  Valley  of  Mexico.    In  attempt, 
mg  to  paint  them,  with  paper  for  canvas,  and  words  for 
colors,  I  feel  more  sensibly  than  ever  the  imperfection  of 
all  human  speech.    Even  could  I  select  the  special  capaoi- 
ties  of  all  cultivated  languages,  and  use  them  as  so  many 
pure  pigmenu-could  I  describe  the  forests  in  German,  the 
sea  m  Swedish,  the  mountains  in  English,  the  running, 
streams  in  Italian,  and  the  cities  in  Spanish-I  should  stiU 
achieve  but  a  partial  success.    For  words  lack  perspective  • 
they  cannot  truly  represent  the  successive  planes  of  dis- 
tance ;  the  crystal  sea,  which,  invisible  in  itself,  yet  tints 
the  mountains,  near  and  far,  with  an  enchantir  g  scale  of 
color,  nor  those  subtle  phases  of  expression  which  seem  to 
be  independent  of  the  forms  of  Nature. 

Let   us  first  look    upon  Granada-a    landscape    more 
limited  in  extent  than  either  of  the  others,  yet  lacking  no 


'38 


AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


imp^ —  -nt  feature.    Climbing  the  long  street  of  the  Darro, 
we  enter  the  Albaycin,  an  ancient  Moorish  suburb,  from 
the  crumbling  parapets  of  which  the  eye  takes  in  at  one 
glance,  the  city,  the  Alhambra,  the  Vega,  and  its  ring  of 
encircling  mountains.      Across  the  deep  gorge  through 
which  the  Darro  issues  from  the  hills,  rises  the  iieadland 
crowned  by  the  palace  of  the  Moorish  Kings,  the  huge  red 
towers  of  which  stand  out  in  massive  relief  against  the  dark 
purple  background  of  the  Sierra  N'evada.    The  summit  of 
this  single  group  of  mountains  rises  nearly  to  the  height  of 
the  Jungfrau,  and  their  sides  of  dark-red  rocks  are  streaked 
with  fields  of  eternal  snow.    To  the  right,  beyond  the  gay, 
glittering  city,  stretches  for  twenty-f  ve  miles  the  blooming 
Vega— a  huge  parterre  of  gardenc,  olive  groves,  fields,  and 
forests,  dotted  with  white  towers  and  palace-fronts,  and 
lighted  by  shining  glimpses  of  the  winding  Xenil.    Across 
the  glorious  plain  towers  the  huge  mountain  of  Parapanda, 
w^hile  a  chain  of  lesser  heights  incloses  it  on  all  sidos. 
Beautiful  as  the  details  of  the  landscape  are,  its  breadth, 
and  grandeur,  and  splendor  of  coloring  are  the  charms 
which  hold  you  captive. 

The  view  of  Damascus,  from  the  Salahiyeh— the  last 
slope  of  the  Anti-Lebanon — is  less  perfectly  proportioned, 
but  more  dazzling.  It  is  transfigured  by  the  magic  of  the 
Orient.  Fri  i  the  mountain-chain  whose  ridges  heave 
benind  you,  intil,  in  the  south,  they  terminate  in  the 
snowy  head  of  Mount  Hermon,  the  ---it  Syrian  plain 
stretches  away  to  the  Euphrates,  brokci-,  at  distances  of 
♦-en  and  fifteen  miles,  by  two  detached  groups  of  moun- 
tains.    The  far  horizon  of  sand  quivers  in  a  flush  of  roseate 


rUE   LANDSCAPES   OF  THE   Woltl.D.  459 

heat.    In  a  terrible  gorge  at  your  side,  the  river  Barrada 

watt     '  .■  '^  ?"'"•  '■'""'  "'  '"^  '°  •*=  P'»"'  "-d  i« 
wate.,,  d,„dod  ,„t„  t«-elve  different  ehannels,  make  aU 

between  you  and  those  blue  island-hills  of  the  desert  one 
8-eat  garden,  the  boundaries  of  which  your  vision  can 
barely  dm.nguish.     Its  longest  diameter  cannot  be  less 
tha.,  twenty  miles.    You  look  down  upon  an  immense  lake 
of  foliage,  .and  fruit,  and  blossoms,  the  hue  of  which    by 
contrast  with  the  barren  mountains  .-.nd  the  red  rim  of' the 
desert,  seems  brighter  than  all  other  gardens  in  the  world. 
Ihrough  „s  centre,  followins  the  course  of  the  river,  lies 
Damascus-a  line   of  white  walls,  domes,  towers,  and 
sparklmg  minarets,  winding  away  for  seven  miles  through 
the  green  sea!    To  this  magnificent  picture  you  have  the 
eontrasts  of  fire  and  snow-of  ete™al    desolation   and 
eternal  bloom. 

The  finest  view  of  Broussa  is  from  the  east,  on  the  road 
into  the  interior  of  Asia  Minor.    Thence  you  overlook  the 
entire  valley,  which,  thirty  miles  long  by  five  in  breadth, 
stretches  away  to  the  westward,  between  the  mighty  mass 
of  the  Mysian  Olympus  on  the  one  side,  and  a  range  of 
lofty  mountains  on  the  other.    The  base  of  Olympus  i«  a 
vast  sloping  terrace,   leagues  in  length,   resembling  the 
flight  ^,  of  steps  by  which  the  ancient  temples  were  ap- 
pro, hed.     From  this  foundation  rise  four  great  pyramids 
t^vo  thousand  feet  in  height,  and  completely  mantled  with 
forests.    Piled  upon  these  are  four  lesser  ones,  above  whose 
green  pmnacles  appear  still  other  and  hic-her.  bare  and  bl.ok 
and  clustering  thickly  together,  to  uphold  the  central  domj 
of  snow.    The  sides  of  the  lower  ranges,  on  either  hand. 

2i* 


I 


490 


AT   UOME   AND   ABROAD. 


pesent  a  charming  mixture  of  forest  and  cultivated  land. 
Far  in  adv;  ice,  under  the  last  headland  which  Olympua 
throws  out  towards  the   Sea  of  Marmora,  the  hundred 
minarets  of  Broussa  stretch  in  a  v/hite  and  glittering  line, 
like  the  masts  of  a  navy,  whose  hulls  are  buried  in  the  leafy 
sea.     No  words  can  describe  the  beauty  of  the  valley,  the 
blending  of  the  richest  cultivation  with  the  wildest  natural 
luxuriance.    Here  are  gardens  and  orchards ;  there,  groves 
of  superb  chestnut-trees  in  blossom  ;  her  ,  fields  of  golden 
grain   or  green  pasture-land;   there.   Arcadian  thickets, 
overgrown  witii  clematis  and  wild  rosea ;  here,  lofty  pop- 
lars beside   the   streams;   there,  spiry  cypresses  looking 
down  from  the  slopes— and  all  blended  in  one  whole,  so 
rich,   so  grind,   so  gorgeous,  that  you  scarcely  breuthe 
when  it  first  bursts  upon  you.     The   only  feature  which 
you  miss  is  the  gleam  of  water. 

In  the  valley  of  Mexico,  however— the  grandest  of 
these  four  landscapes — this  want  is  supplied.  Whether 
you  behold  it  from  the  rock  of  Chepultcpec,  or  from  under 
the  pines  of  Iztaccihuatl,  the  great  lakes  of  Chalco  and 
Tezcuco  form  crystal  mirrors  for  the  mighty  peaks  waich 
look  down  upon  the  valley.  The  landscape  has  a  diameter 
of  a  hundred  miles,  and  the  average  height  of  the  moun- 
tains which  enframe  it  cannot  be  less  than  twelve  thor.  and 
feet.  Above  this  majestic  wall  shoot  the  broken,  snowy 
summits  of  Iztaccihuatl  and  the  Nevada  of  Toluca,  and 
the  solitary  cone  of  Popocatapetl.  The  view  seems  to 
embrace  a  world  at  a  glance.  In  the  centre  lies  the  city 
with  its  white  palaces  &nd  towers,  like  silver  in  the  sun  ;  all 
around  it  are  gardens,  fields  of  aloes,  embowered  villages 


THB  LANDSCAPES   OP  THB   WORLD.  491 

and  convents,  cypress  forests  and  orange  groves;  then,  the 
flashing  of  th.  „,eat  lakes,  dim  fields,  and  faint  villages  in 
the  distances;    and  lastly,    the   embaying  curves  of  the 
mountains,   now  projected    near  in  rugged    and  banvu 
grandeur,  now  receding  into  purple  distance,  or  seemin.. 
to  overhang  their  bases,  in  the  delusive  nearness  of  their 
dazzling  snows.     When  a  fow  scattering  clouds  are  in  the 
sky  and  moving  belts  of  golden  light  and  violet  shadow 
lend  their  alternate  magic  to  these  grand  and  wonderful 
features,  you  can  only  say,  again  and  again,  "  This  is  tho 
one  great  landscape  of  the  world  I  " 


XL. 


PREFERENCES,   AFTER   SEEING  TIIE    WORLD. 


The  traveller,  one  would  suppose,  must  necessarily  become 
an  optimist,  an  eclectic,  since  he  has  an  opportunity^  of  learn- 
ing  what  is  best  in  the  varied  life  of  the  world.     Yet,  my 
friend,  a  little  reflection  will  show  you  that  a  considerable 
amount  of  philosophy  is  necessary,  to  enable  him  to  go 
through  with  such  a  range  of  expprience,  and  therefore, 
that  even  after  he  has  learned  all  that  is  best  of  its  kmd,  he 
is  scarcely  the  man  to  complain  that  he  cannot  enjoy  the 
same  in  his  own  person.     In  fact,  he  must  possess  many 
standards  of  comparison— wide  ranges   of  observation— 
before  he  is  capable  of  deciding  what  is  best,  and  long 
before  that  period  arrives,  there  will  be  little  of  the  Epi- 
curean element  left  in  his  nature. 

To  begin  with  a  paradox:  he  is  best  adapted  for  a  tra- 
veller  who  is  capable  of  the  strongest  local  attachments. 
Without  this  characteristic,  he  will  never  thoroughly  appre- 


PREFERENCES,    AFTER   8EEIN0   THE   WORLD.  493 

ciate  the  sentiment  of  scenery,  the  significance  of  popular 
customs,  or  the  thousand  varying  traits  of  domestic  life,  in 
other  countries.    At  the  splendid  court  of  Kubla  Khan, 
the  Polos  never  forgot  Venice;  Ibn  Batuta,  after  twenty- 
five  years  of  wandering,  returned  to  die  at  the  foot  of  h=s 
native  Atlas,  and  the  last  pages  from  P.-.rk,  on  the  Niger, 
contained  a  remembrance  of  Scotland.     It  was  once  my 
good  fortune  to  have  in  my  hands,  for  a  month,  the  Russian 
and  Siberian  journals  of  John  Ledyard,  together  with  a 
number  of  his  letters  to  h,s  relatives  in  America;  and  what 
most  struck  me  in  the  perusal  of  the  faded  lines,  was  the 
warmth  and  tendeniess  of  his  attachment  to  early  associa- 
tions.    But  the  co-existence  of  a  travelled  brain  and  an 
untravelled  heart,  is  what  few  people  can  understand. 

A  thousand  cimes  a  year  (at  a  moderate  estimate),  I  hear 
the  questi(    :  "Now,  you  have  seen  all  parts  of  the  world, 
which  do  you  prefer  ?  »    Of  course  but  one  answer  can  be 
given,  and  the  question  is  no  doubt  sometimes  asked  for 
the  gratification  of  hearing  it.    An  American  thinks :  "  We 
are  the  grandest  nation  in  all  creation;  we  have  the  best 
form  of  government,  the  finest  scenery,  the  richest  soil,  and 
the  most  moral  and  intelligent  population."    When  he  asks 
"Where  would  you  rather  live?"  and  you  answer,  "Where 
I  was  born,"  it  is  a  pleasant  confirmation  of  this  opinion- 
yet  the  reply  by  no  means  includes  so  much.     No  country 
has,  or  ever  can  have,  all  that  is  best.     The  magic  that  lies 
in  the  word  «  Home  "  reconciles  us  to  many  disadvantages, 
which  may  not  exist  elsewhere-yea,  even  petty  h    jnvcni- 
ences  become  attractive,  when  connected  with  the  associa- 
tions  of  youth.     I  find  much  ir.  other  Iai,ds  to  make  Hfe 


494 


AT   UOM£  AND   ABUOAD. 


brighter  an.!  richer  than  it  is  here,  at  present,  yet  no  temp- 
tation  could  induce  me  to  give  up  my  birthrigl.t  and  adopt 
a  foreign  home. 

If  the  best  government  is  that  which  governs  least,  then 
ours  is  certainly  the  best  in  the  worid.     However  dishonest 
our  professed  politicians  may  be,  however  grievous  the  errors 
which  have  crept  into  our  administration  of  the  laws,  we 
nevertheless  enjoy,  as  individual  citizens,  a  degree  of  inde- 
pendence which  makes  all  oth^r  systems  unendurable  to  us. 
We  do  not  feel  the  hard  hand  cf  Government  pressing  upon 
our  heads,  controlling  our  movements,  repressing  our  free 
development.     We  buy  and  sell,  build  and  pull  down,  learn 
trades,  stuJy  professions,  engage  in  business,  without  the 
permission  or  license  of  any  one.     Our  local  and  municipal 
governments,  it  is  true,   are  less  carefully  administered 
than  in  some  parts  of  Europe;  we  do  many  things  in  a 
bungling  manner ;  but  all  these  minor  evils  cannot  outweigh 
the  one  great  fact  of  individual  freedom.    The  law  interferes 
as  Uttle  as  possible  with  our  pursuits,  our  business  transact 
tions,  and  our  habits  of  Ufe.     We  may  live  for  years,  with- 
out being  aware,  through  our  own  personal  experience, 
that  there  is  any  Government  at  all. 

With  regard  to  Society,  however,  we  are  still  in  a  transi- 
tion  state.  Except  in  tbo  four  large  cities  of  the  Atlantic 
Coast,  we  find  local  conventionalities,  but  not  that  ease  and 
repose  which  spring  from  the  adoption  of  a  few  broad  and 
general  observances.  There  is  no  liberal  recognition  of  a 
man's  social  value,  without  regarri  to  his  religious  or  politi- 
cal opinions.  The  main  cause  of  this  is,  sufficient  attention 
18  not  paid  to  the  social  amenities  of  life.    In  all  country 


PREFERENCES,   AFTER  SEEING   THE   WORLD.  495 

conuuunities,  work  k  the  prescribed  rcgi.Men,  and  a  man 
who  chooses  to  live  without  it  exposes  himself  to  censure 
and  impertinent  gossip.  In  the  city  of  Cincinnati,  with 
250,000  inhabitants,  there  is  but  one  man  of  leisure.  (So  I 
was  informed  by  the  individual  himself;  who  had  vainly 
sought  a    ompanion.) 

Too  often  the  prominent  religious  sect  in  a  town   de- 
termines the  character    of  it3  society.      Between   tfaose 
of  Widely   diverging  creeds  there  is  rarely  any  familiar 
intercourse.     I  can   conceive  of  nothing  more  unnatural 
and  unchristian  than  what  is  called  "  close  communion," 
which  is  still  a  characteristic  of  two  or  three  Protestant 
sects,  e.^.cially  in  the  United  States.    The  true  basis  of 
Society  (by  which  I  mean  Social  Intercourse)  is  Character 
and  Cultivation,  not  a  certain  class  of  opinions.     Hence, 
the  introduction  of  a  religious  test,  which  prevails  to  a 
greater  extent  in  the  United  States  than  in  any  other 
country  in  the  world,  defeats  its   object  and  narrows  its 
character. 

There  is  a'nother  feature  of  smaU  communities,  which 
springs  from  the  nature  of  our  political  sy.tem.     Demo- 
cracy, which  we  have   thoroughly  incorporated   into  our 
Government,  has  two  opposite  modes  of  operation  in  our 
Societi/.    It  levels  down   as  well  as  up.    The  practical 
effect  is,  not  that  the  uncultivated  many  shall  imitate  the 
cultivated  few,  but  that  the  latter  shall  bo  dragged  down 
to  the  lower  platform  on  which  the  former  stand.     This, 
ho^v^ver,  is  an  evil  which  will  remedy  itself  in  the  course 
of  time.    The  progress  in  the  right  direction,  which  has 
been  made    within    the   last  twenty  years,  is  amazing. 


^ 


400 


AT   IIOHB   AND    ABROAD. 


p  § 


Nevertheless,  one  who  is  thoroughly  famih'ar  with  So- 
ciety in  the  two  hemispheres  cannot  but  admit  that  in 
Europe  it  str^ads  on  a  broador,  firmer,  and  altogether  jnoro 
libenU  and  catholic  bpsis  than  in  this  country. 

In  one  respect  we  might  profitably  imitate  the  Germans. 
Our  sorest  need,  as  a  people,  is  recreation— relaxation  of 
the  everlasting  tension  of  our  laborious  lives.     Among  our 
Teutonic  cousins,  a  certain  amount  of  recreation,  public  as 
well  as  domestic,  is  a  part  of  the  plan  of  every  man's  life. 
The  poorest  laborer  lias  his  share— must  have  it— and  the 
treadmiU  round  of  his  years  is  brightened  and  sweetened 
by 'it.     Our    seasons  of  recreation,   being  so   rare,   too 
frequently  take  the  character   of  excess.     They  are  cha- 
racterized  by  the  sm.  .   hurry  and  fury  with  which   w. 
prosecute  our  business.     If  we  shall  ever  intercalate  regu- 
lar periods  of  genial  relaxation  into  our  working  calend'Ir, 
we  shall  be  a  healthier  and  happier  people  than  we  are' 
now. 

For  comfori  in  domestic  ilfe  ve  must  look  to  . England 
foi-  an  example.    True,  we  have  inherited  much  from  our 
Anglo-Saxon  ancestry,  but  in  later  times  there  has  been 
engrafted  thereon  a  French  love  of  show,  as  well   as  a 
barbaric  fondness  for  glaring  colors,  which  I  cannot  but 
consider  as  a  retrograde  movement.     "Look  at  the  Hotel 
of  St.  Dives!"  cries   m^   onthusiastic  patriot;  "nowhere 
will  you  find   such   immense  mirrors,  such  carpets,  such 
curtains,  and  such  magnificent  furniture!"     Perhaps  so: 
but  when  I  enter  the  hotel,  and  (after  my  eyes  have  reco^ 
vered  from  the  dazzle  of  the  gilding)  look  upon  the  curtains 
of  orange  damask,  the  carpet  of  crimson  and  wixite,  spriu- 


TOEPERENCES,   AFTKE   SEEING  THE   WORLD.  497 

kled  With  monntrous  flowers  of  blue,  purple,  and  yellow, 
and  the  chairs  of  rosewood  and  scarlet  sUk,  I  remember  in 
grateful  contrast,   the  home-like    parlor   in   the   Lond'on 
hote    wuh  its  quiet  green  carpet,  its  easy  chairs  of  green 
leather,  its  scrupulous  neatness,  and   its  air  of  comfort 
taste,  and  repose.     So  it  is  in  our  private  residence^stitt' 
splendor  is  preferred  to  comfort,  everywhere.     Clean  bed 
linen,  an  unlimited  supply  of  water  and  towels,  and  a  neat 
table,  though   there  is  nothing  but   bacon  and  potatoes 
upon  ,t,  are  the  characteristics  of  the  country  inns  of 
Jingland.    Are  they  of  ours  ? 

In  r.g^rd  to  ..imate,  we  are  met  by  this  difficulty,  that 
that  wh.oh  is  most  enjoyable  is  •       best  adapted  to  the 
development  of  the  humcn  r..e.    H.  e,  also,  much  de- 
pends  upon  the  peculiar  temperament  of  the  individual 
To  me  our  American  climate,  even  with  its  caprices  and 
ex.  .mes,  ,s  more  agreeable  than  that  of  Europe,  north  of 
the  Alps.     Our  atmosphere  has  a  dry,  fresh,  brilliant,  vital 
character,   which    is    there  vanting.     Nevertheless,   our 
wmters  are  too  severe,  and  our  springs  too  uncertain,  so 
that,  although  the  growths  of  our  summer  are  those  of 
Italy  and  Spain,  we  live  practically,  for  five  months,  in  the 
latitude  of  Copenhagen.    A  hundred  miles  inland  from  the 
Atlantic  seaboard,  the  average  duration  of  life  is  probably 
as  great  as  in  any  country  of  the  world,  and  the  race  in 
spite  of  certain  ethnologists,  does  not  deteriorate  from 
physical  causes. 

The  most  agreeable  zone  of  climate  is  that  where  the 
ol.ve,  fig,  and  orange  will  grow  in  the  open  air.  Here  the 
8prn:gs   are  delicious,   the  summers  long  and   with   less 


n 


498 


AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 


V 


■•    •  -I 


^  A 


extremes  of  heat  than  ours,  the  autumns  m-'d  and  balmy, 
and  the  winters  barely  cold  enough  to  brace  and  stimulate 
the  system.    To  this  zone  belong  Spain,  Italy,  Greece, 
Palestine,  California,  and  Texas.     I  have  visited  all  excei)t 
the  latter,  and  unhesitatingly  give  the  preference  to  Cali- 
fornia.    If  a  more   equable,  genial,   and  healthy  climate 
exists,  I  know  not  where  it  is  to  be  found.     Here  the  air, 
even  in  summer,  has  a  dryness  and  purity  which  take  away 
all  tropical  languor  from   its  truly  tropical  heats;   the 
winters  are  green  and  mild,  and  the  springs  a  foretaste 
of  Paradise.     The  interior  of  Texas  is  said  to  be  similarly 
favored  with  regard  to  climate. 

Nothing  can  be  more  delicious  than  some  portions  of  the 
Tropics,  where  there  is  no  day  of  a  man's  hfe  when  he  may 
not  sit  in  the  open  air— no  day  without  the  falling  of  ripe 
fruit  and  the  opening  .,f  new  blossoms.  There  the  climate 
is  an  opiate,  and  life  an  indolent,  sensuous  semi-sleep.  But 
how  delicious  such  repose ! 

"Oh  sweet  it  was,  in  Aves,  to  feel  the  landward  breeze, 
A-swing  with  good  tobacco,  in  a  net  between  the  trees. 
With  a  negro  lass  to  fan  you,  while  you  listened  to  the  roai 
Of  the  breakers  on  the  reef  outside,  that  never  touched  the  shore  I" 

One,  thereforo,  who  wishes  to  taste  the  very  cream  of  this 
terrestrial  existence,  must  do  his  work  in  America,  enjoy 
liis  recreation  in  Europe,  and  go  to  Java  for  his  days  of 
indolence. 

The  zone  of  action  and  achievement  lies  between  lat.  35° 
and  55*  North.  On  either  side  of  this  belt  we  have  a 
superabundance  of  the  benumbing  or  relaxing  element. 


PEEFl.nE.VCES,   iPTEE   SSEIXO  THE   WOHU>.  499 

Oar  o„„.,^,  stretching  fr„„  25«  to  49»,  enjoys  .  „„,,  f„,. 
u  ate  range  of  cHmate.  E.vten.„„  «,„th..ards  w„„,d  be 
01  o».ca  ,y  a  s  „w  bnt  cctain  deteHoration  in  the  ,t.™i! 

SWT"  r  P""»f''"P<'»  "">-.".  tableland,  of 

g    r  tia  "  t  ""■'"'  """  °f '™''—  «  »»t  much 
greater  than  m  Texas  or  Tennessee.     We  have,  therefore 

■At  least  he  who  desires  a  change,  n.a,  find  whatever  climate 
Stair  ^°'"°  '''^"°''  "■'  ""'"'  "f  ""^  U-i'"" 

Every  country  has  its  ,«c„liar  habits  of  life,  and  it  is  al 

oTTh  rt  '""""'™'  '°  ""'°™  "•  '"-•    WO-^'her  this 
o   that  .  best,  .  a  thing  fo.  each  nun.  to  decide  according 
.0  h.  crcumstances,  and  his  bodily  temperament.    The  Kng 
l.sh  dme  at  the  close  of  the  day,  after  the  day's  work  1 
do,,e,  s,t  long  at  table,  and  do  nothing  to  interfere  with  the 
sbse,nent  process  of  digestion.    The  Gennans  dine  at  one 
o  cock,  and  make  snpper  (which  is  always  very  substantia, 
a  debberate  and  social  meal.    The  Americans  eat  all  meal 
^^st,  and  work  both  before  and  aflerwards.    Natnralirwe 
have  four  dyspeptics  where  there  is  one  in  Europe 
^together,  the  most  rational  and  convenient  habit  of 
hfe  for  a  man  who  does  just  as  much  work  as  he  ou.k,  to 
do  and  no  more,  is  that  which  prevails  in  Spain,  iLico 
and  parts  of  F^nce.    Immediately  on  awakening  i„  t  J 
mornmg,  y„„  are  furnished  with  a  cup  of  coffee  or  chocolate 
a  b.scmt,  and  a  glass  of  water.    You  are  then  readrr; 
your  hbors ;  your  stomach  is  warmed,  your  bead  clear,  and 
>^ur  bran.  n.mble.    After  three  or  four  hours-from  t  „  o 
eleven  o-clock,  generally-yo„  have  breakfast,  consisting   f 


500 


AT   nOME  AND   ABROAD. 


substantial  dishes  of  meat  and  vegetables,  with  light  wine 
and  water,  and  a  cup  of  coffee  at  the  close.  Five  to  six 
hours  more  available  time  are  now  before  you,  during  which 
you  accomplish  your  allotted  day's  work.  At  5  p.  m.  din- 
uer  is  served— a  generous  meal,  followed  by  coffeo.  The 
evening  is  devoted  to  society  or  recreation  of  some  kind. 
At  nine  o'clock  you  take  a  cup  of  tea,  or  an  ice,  but  nothing 
more,  and  your  sleep  is  untroubled  by  nightmares.  I  have 
never  found  myself  in  better  health  or  more  admirable 
working  trim,  than  when  foUowmg  this  programme  of 
daily  life. 

flowever,  each  man  is  but  a  unit  in  Society,  and  must 
sacrifice  many  of  his  individual  tastes  and  likings  for  those 
around  him.     One  might  as  well  cry  for  the  moon,  like  an 
infant,  as  attempt  to  transplant  all  the  pleasant  features 
of  life  in  other  climates  and  among  other  races  into  a  soil 
foreign  to  them.    I  am  weU  satisfied  with  the  laud  where 
my  lot  is  cast,  without  feeling  myself  bound  to  say  that 
nothing  is  better  elsewhere.    As  I  look  up  from  this  page, 
and  see,  through  the  open  window,  my  own  trees  tossing 
the  silver  liring  of  their  leaves  to  the  summer  wind,  and 
the  peaceful  beauty  of  the  vales  and  blue  hills  s*rotching 
beyond,  I  know  that  no  tropic  island,  no  palace  on  a  Medi- 
terranean shore,  no  advantage  of  wealth  and  position  in  the 
great  capitals  of  Europe,  could  ever  tempt  me  to  give  up 
the  name,  the  rights,  and  the  immunities  of  an  American 
Citizen. 


THE  END. 


Ciat  of  tl)e  iDorka 


Wafliington    Irving,    Bayard    Taylor, 
and  others, 

PutIf*S:i  £or  itt  flutboM, 


BT 


O.  J^.  Putnam,  IST.  Y. 


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NOTE. 
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4 

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mou 


and  Bayard  Taylor. 

5 


living's   Works — 


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6 


Bayard  Taylor's  Works — 


TRAVELS   IN    VARIOUS    PARTS   OP   THE 
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7.  BURTON'S  JOURNEY  TO   MECCAH  AND  ME^ 
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»  Bayard  Taylor  Is  certainly  a  remarkable  man.  The  more  we  see  of  him  In  hii 
writings,  and  the  more  we  hear  of  him,  the  more  we  admire  him.  He  Is  decidedly 
t/te  American  traveller,  and  travel  writer."— JVew  Ilaten  Courier. 

"  .\s  a  writer  of  travels  especially,  be  has  never  found  his  equal."—  Bi(^<ito  Demo- 
craey. 

"  As  a  vivid  delineator,  it  would  bo  difficult  to  overmatch  Mr.  Taylor."— Liver- 
pool SUtndard. 

"Thire  is  no  romance  to  us  quite  equal  to  one  of  Bayard  Taylor's  books  of  travel 
Fact,  under  his  wonderful  pen,  is  more  charming  than  Fiction."— i7ar{/brd  Rtpub 
lican. 

Bayard  Taylor's  New  Work — 

GREECE.  RUSSIA,  Ac.     (In  Sept.) 


Wafliington  Illustrations, 

Prints  in  Octavo,  16  ct^     Proofs  on  India  paper,  4to,  60  ct«. 
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Prooia  IK 


ADAMS,  JOHN, 
ANDKE,   MAJOU, 
AKNOLD,  OEN.7 
BUROOYijE,  OKN^ 
CLINTON,  GEO.,    ^ 
CLINTON,  JAME8, 


I'ottiailB. 

MADISON,  JAMES, 
MEEcEK,  GEN.. 
MARION,  GEN.. 
MOKOAN,  GE". 
M0KKI8,  OOVEfiNEUK. 


CLiNfoN:  8Tk  ,'£?:NRY,  MuSa  "j^J^S 
COKNWaLlIS,    lord,    IPAiTdinO     lOliji 
ELLSWOKTII,  OLIVEi   i>n..  -  ..J;...'  '19)}«, 
OATE8.   GEN. 


OLOVEli,   GEN., 
<iKEENE,  GEN. 
HAMILTON,   ALEX. 
HOWR  SIR  WM.,    ' 
.IAY,7oHN, 
•lEFFEKSON.  THOS., 
KINO,   KUF^B,  ' 

KNOX,   HENKr. 

K08cnr»Ko, 

I'KE,  IIENUV, 
I^EE,  CHARLES, 
LAFAYETTE, 
LIVINGSTON,  R.  R.. 
LINCOLN,  GEN. 


PHILLII'SE.  MISS, 
PUTNAM,   ISRAEi; 
ROCIIAMBEAU,  COUNT 
SCHUYLER,  GiN..  ' 

STARK,  UKN.. 
ST.   CLAIR,  okN. 
STEUBEN,   BARON, 
S    LLIVAN,  GEN.,  ' 
SirMI'TER,  SEN.. 
STERLING,  LORD, 
THOMAS,  GEN. 
WASHINGTON  AT  2S. 
WASHINGTON    AT    40 
,,nT  C.  W.  Pkalk,  ' 

WA8HINGTN,  By  Tkum- 

BITLL, 


WASniNGTOft.  BrPiiTB. 
WA8niN0rN,BTW.S 

MULLKR, 

WASHINGTON,    Bt    B 

;      P«ALB, 

WA8UINQT0N,  Bt 

OTtTART, 

WASHINGTON     MONU. 

MENT,  Bt  H.  K.  Bbowit 
WASHINGTON     MONnJ 

NENT,    By   Ckawfobd 

WASHINGTON       BUST 
By  Houdon,  ' 

WASHINGTON 

Bt  Cebacciiu 
WASHINGTON 
WASHINGTON.' 

By  SxrART. 

WARD  ARTKMA8.  GEN. 
WAYNE,  ANTHONY. 
WASHINGTON,  WmI 
WOLCOTT,  OLivEBT 


BUST, 

MRS., 
MRS., 


SUINGTON-8   BIRTH-    NEW  YORK  IN  17«8 


6i/E  OP 
PLACE 

MOUNT  Vernon,  Bear  view, 

(Vignette).      "  ^'°"»    View, 

BRADDOCK'S  BATTLE  FIELD, 


;;„"    '"*»«.  i«  1108. 
wI^^^p'^Fn^IKs^^^^^ 

{JgAD  QUARTERS  AT'  TAPPAN 
HEAD      QUARTERS      AT      NEir 
BURGlC  W' 

I  OLD  CITY  HALL,  NEW  YORK, 


LAKE  CHAMPLAIN-Millxb: 
LAKE  GEORGE—  "^ 

VALENTINE'S  HILL, 

I€^^^^^^^--v:^I^nI'S  or  GERMAN. 

LEY  FORGE-Daeut 

WASHINGT'NANDLEE 

ATMONMOUTH-Dar- 

LBT. 

WASHINGTON  TAKING 
LEAVE  OF  HIS  OFFI- 
'^ERS— Darlry. 

WASHINGTON'S  INAU- 

GURAriON-DARLKY. 

WA8hi..OT0N  RK.siON. 
im  HIS  COMMISSION 
— Tbdmuull. 


NKCE.SSITY-McNbvin  I     Dahti^ 
WASHINGTON    IN  DI8- CROsSin'g  ^#iE  DELA- 


SWAMP  — Mo 


MAL 

Nkvi.v. 
WASHINGTON'S  FIELD 

SPORTS—Dablby. 
WASHINGTON     GOING 

TO    CONOBESS-Dab. 

FORTIFYING  BLANKER 
JIILL— Dablbt. 


WARE— Dakley. 
BATTLE  OF  TRENTON 

— SCIIUE88ELI.B. 

BAT/TLE'    OF    PRINCE 

TON— Trcmbull. 
8CEN  E  IN  FARM  HOUSE 

—  MoNbvin. 
SURRENDERR  OF  BUR- 

QOYNE-Tbumbplu 


THE  CHARACTER  AND  PORTRAITS  OF  WASHINGTON 

W..K  10    .      ,      .  ^   "*'■*'*    '^-   TUCKERMAN. 

With  12  .ted  plates,  8vo.    |2  00.    Quarto,  with  proof  plates.    |5  00. 


O.  p.  Putnam,  Publishing  Agency. 

8 


CAPT.  COGGESHALL. 

Vomts  ta  mxim  Jarts  0f  t\t 

New  edition,  Illustrated. 
3  vols,  complete  in  1  vol  8vo.     f  2  50. 

or^^JT  "!  "ir  '!^J*''  "'"'"« '"'*'*•''  •"•'  •"  "''""l"  •  «»>•««»*'  tttt  tt  .  re.de, 


»  t 


New  edition,  Illustrated,  8vo.     $2. 

J  '?ni"„'^r''""f  i'"*'  imporUnt  work  is  highly  recommended  by  the  Hon.  Me«r» 
J.  C.  DoBB«  and  Uaao  Touoit,  Secretarie.  of  the  Navy ;  Hon.  L.wu.  Cam  Hoa 
Hamit-ton  FiBis  and  other  eminent  men.  -i^mwuiuAM    uoa 


E.  PEbHINE  SMITH. 

31  W'Mnl  Hi  lolitrcal  fymmi 

Designed  for  ropuLAR  Reading,  and  as  a  Text  Book. 

12mo.,  Cloth,  $1. 
New  edition :  used  as  a  Text  Book  in  several  Colleges, 

nl?*  "^M^'  !f  Preparing  thU  Mannal  wa,  to  present  to  hh  countrymen  In  a  com 
tll7vu.^  ",  v"^'"  "'  '"^"^  '^'^  '^'""^^  may  juatly  be  called  the  American  Sy. 
tern  of  Political  Economy,  no.  less  on  the  ground  of  lU  origin  than  its  gf^nal  agree 
ment  with  our  social  and  political  organliatioii."-liBlroc</ro«,  At  j'r^ac4. 


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